


And If Your Heart Stops Beating...

by missbenzedrine



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Crossover, Frankenstein AU, M/M, scientist!Gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbenzedrine/pseuds/missbenzedrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his best friend dies, Gerard goes to desperate measures to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to this prompt:
> 
> Frankenweenie/Frankenstein AU: Frank and Gerard are best friends, but Frank dies. Gerard is kind of a scientist, so he resurrects Frank.
> 
> on http://everythingsfrerardnothinghurts.tumblr.com/
> 
> This part is just the intro, and I'm going to attempt to write the majority of it before I post anymore. I hope you like it!

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Frank agreed, watching Gerard’s hands move as he talked. Gerard was speaking animatedly about some school project he was doing, and Frank really was trying to pay attention. It was hard though when Gerard’s voice inflection changed and got higher as he became particularly excited or dropped to almost a whisper when he started to think really hard about something. He always got so _into_ this stuff, and Frank just enjoyed watching.

He pulled out his lab notebook and set it down on the counter beside himself, cringing as he got ready for the next hour or so, cutting up squids.

Gerard had been the one to convince Frank to take the advanced biology class in the first place, because he “didn’t want to be alone with a bunch of dumbasses.” Frank had argued that he wasn’t any good with science or cutting up animals (which was totally animal abuse, he didn’t care if they were dead already) for that matter. But somehow he wound up in the class. Damn those puppy eyes and delicious cookies courtesy of Mrs. Way.

Plus, when he really thought about it, there wasn’t much Gerard could ask for that Frank wouldn’t eventually give in to. Had he asked Frank to kill his little brother, Mikey, Frank would have (probably reluctantly) pulled out a shot gun. It was just the way things had always worked. He would give his life for Gerard, because that’s what they did for each other.

The two had been friends as soon as Frank had moved to town in the fourth grade. They hit it off when they came to the mutual realization that they were outcasts and at a severe dearth of friends. It had been a good fit and they’d had each other’s backs ever since.

They’d been together for so much, that sometimes Frank wasn’t sure how or even if he could survive without Gerard. The other boy had been there when Frank got sick over and over and over again. Had even risked getting sick himself when he curled up in the bed next to Frank, watching Star Wars marathons as Frank blew his nose into Gerard’s sleeve. He was there when Frank decided to become a vegetarian, supporting his decision and suggesting that Frank might even get super cool vegetarian powers (it never happened, but it was a nice idea). He was even there through every stupid break-up Frank had had during high school, despite Frank’s attempts to shut him out.

Of course, that isn’t to say that Gerard was the ever-noble saint of the friendship, Frank had his fair share of good deeds too. Frank had been the first one Gerard had come out to. He hadn’t blinked an eye at the time. Frank had helped Gerard dye his hair every color of the rainbow. Literally, Frank couldn’t even think of a color that hadn’t contaminated Gerard’s head at some point. He had given him a hug and even let him eat all of his ice cream (which had been cookies and cream, so, yeah, he was a great ass friend) when Gerard realized his baby brother was the slut of the school. And that time Gerard somehow lost the seventh grade science fair? You had better bet Frank made the winner pee his pants in front of the whole school at the awards ceremony(Gerard still didn’t know about that, but the smile on his face had been priceless, so Frank lived without regrets).

“Frank. What do you think? Should I use iodine instead next time?” Gerard questioned in that annoyed tone that meant it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was fiddling with some tool in his hands, making a high-pitched clinking noise as he tapped it against the side of the squid’s metal tray.

Frank blinked, meeting Gerard’s eyes, his mouth open slightly. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Iodine, I completely agree.” What the hell did iodine even do?

He watched as Gerard shook his head and turned his attention back to the disgusting looking squid in front of him, poking it with what Frank thought was a scalpel and watching some of the oh-so-delicious looking pus ooze out. Frank could almost feel the tomato sandwich he had for lunch coming back up. He hated biology and how it constantly made him feel like his intestines were the ones being prodded with a scalpel. “You weren’t listening, were you?” He sounded really disappointed. Like what he had been saying was really important. Frank was pretty sure it hadn’t been. Gerard was such a drama queen sometimes. “I fucking hate it when you do that, Frankie…It’s like…It’s like you don’t even care.” 

Frank bit his lip, hating the hurt sound in Gerard’s voice, but he gave himself a point, because at least he was still talking. Whenever he was especially mad, he gave Frank the silent treatment. A few seconds later though, it seemed like he just forgot about the whole thing, diving head-first into the science lab.

That was one reason Frank was able to handle biology. Gerard was always his partner and at least he knew what he was doing. Gerard’s affinity for science, specifically biology, was actually insane. He even had a little laboratory set up in his basement bedroom. It gave Frank the creeps sometimes, but he had gotten used to it for the most part.

 While Gerard worked, his fingers moving over the squid’s body precisely and with a certain elegance, Frank pretended he was helping by filling test tubes up with water, and bringing them up to eye level for “examination.” He would purse his lips and show the clear tubes to Gerard, asking what his verdict was. “I would say this mixture is lethal. Definitely. But…only for hamsters. What do you think, Gee?” he would ask, watching as Gerard’s lips turned up into a half smile. Frank loved the look on Gerard’s face as he held back his amusement, trying to look annoyed. The teacher had even come by a couple times and told Frank job well done, to which Gerard just rolled his eyes while Frank snickered. Frank didn’t feel all that bad about not helping. These school labs were elementary for Gee. The few times Frank had actually attempted participating, he only got yelled at and once he almost set the whole room on fire. He didn’t bother any more.

“Okay, that’s it,” Gerard said, about forty-five minutes later, wiping his hands on his apron and leaving gross brown-green streaks across the previously pristine material. “Now all we have to do is put this little guy in the fridge, and we’ll continue with it tomorrow.” He lifted his eyes to Frank’s, smiling with that gleam in his eyes that Frank recognized as pride. Not a bad pride though, just pride that indicated he was happy with himself for the work he had done. When Frank glanced down at their little squid for the first time since the beginning of the lab, he noticed that it didn’t look demolished like the other kids’ seemed to. It actually looked quite normal, with just one small incision and the organs they needed lined up along its side. Yeah. If there was anyone Frank would trust to perform a gruesome procedure on him, it was definitely Gee. He told him so, receiving a smug grin and an “I know,” in response.

They both cleaned up their work space and before they knew it, it was time to call it a day and go home. They met up with Mikey in the crowded hall and Frank immediately swung an arm around his shoulders, which proved challenging due to the height difference, and pulled him against his side. He was always trying to get a rise out of the younger boy, mainly because he never seemed to show any emotion.

“How’s it going, Mikeyway? Have a good day at school?” he asked, beaming at him.

Mikey just groaned in response, and pushed Frank away from him, moving so that Gerard formed a defensive barrier between them. Frank stuck his tongue out at the younger boy. He was mature, on good days.

Gerard just laughed through the whole encounter and shoved at Frank’s shoulder. “You know he’s never going to like you if you annoy him all the time,” he commented, earning a pout from Frank.

Frank shoved back, and replied, “Yeah, but it’s more fun this way.” He leaned all of his weight against Gerard’s body attempting to push him into Mikey, but managed to trip over his own feet in the process. He grabbed Gerard’s sleeve just in time to not fall on the cold, hard linoleum floor. Gerard bit his lip and held back a smile aimed at Frank, who was now using his arm as an anchor to push himself upright. “I really hate you sometimes,” Frank pointed out between his own giggles.

They reached the parking lot and piled into Frank’s little beat up Chevy truck. The three of them carpooled to school most of the time, and since Gerard had never made the effort to get his license, Frank had become the chauffeur.

As soon as Frank started the car and the old engine came to life again, Gerard started talking. Frank liked it this way though. It was normal and comforting. Gerard rambling, Mikey staring out the window in the back, sullen and angst-ridden and the beautiful sound of the engine popping and drowning out some of Gerard’s monologue. Frank wouldn’t trade it for anything. He hummed along to the song playing softly on the radio, some pop-hit single he found catchy, and nodded to whatever it was Gerard was saying. Maybe he really should get better about listening.

It was only a short drive and Frank pulled up in front of the Way household a few minutes later, letting the other two out. Normally he would park his car against the curb and he and Gerard would enjoy an afternoon in Gee’s room, drinking crappy beer (which they always managed to sneak past Gerard’s oblivious mother) and watching stupid movies. Then there were always the days where he would just hang out on Gee’s bed while he worked. He was fine with those too. However, Frank’s mom told him that morning that he needed to come home right after school that day, something about getting ready to meet her new boyfriend.

“Alright, I’ll see you later, Gee,” he called out his window as he watched the boys walk toward their door. Mikey did that weird little fast walk he did and made it to the door in record speed, but Gerard walked quite a bit slower.

The other boy turned around, walking backwards in order to call back at Frank, “Alright, Frankie, don’t piss in the guy’s tea or anything. You know your mom wouldn’t appreciate that.” He smiled brightly, and then started to fumble as his foot got caught in a tree root, falling on his ass and eliciting a burst of giggles from Frank.

“Okay, Gee, just promise me you won’t trip and kill yourself before the next time I see you, okay?” He bit his lip in order to keep from going hysterical.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Gerard called back as Frank started to pull away from the curb. He managed to get to his feet and wipe off the dirt from his too-tight jeans, leaving behind brown smudges, but Frank doubted he cared. He thought he heard Gerard call something else after him, but by then he was too far away and he was laughing too hard to hear it.

He turned the music up then and started singing along, mimicking the words to an over played song by some douchey popstar. Those were his favorites. He really wished the CD player worked in his car. Then maybe he could actually listen to some decent stuff. He came to a stop sign and looked down, after he hit the brakes, toying with the radio. He didn’t notice until the last minute that he’d overshot and was sitting in the middle of the intersection.

That being said, there are times in life when you realize that some guys are just assholes. And one of those guys was in an SUV, heading straight for Frank’s truck.

Maybe he thought that Frank would get the idea, and move before the impact occurred. Or maybe he was paying just as much attention as Frank himself. But either way, he didn’t step on his brakes until it was much too late, and the screeching of tires was deafening.

Frank kept his eyes, wide and shocked, on the big car the entire time. He considered momentarily how he was supposed to be seeing his life flash before his eyes or something. Instead he just saw the little bobblehead in the windshield of the car that was surely going to kill him, he wasn’t really in denial about that. Frank had always wanted to get one of those bobbleheads. Just like he wanted a tattoo or a lip ring. It was just something he knew he would eventually do. But maybe now he wouldn’t get the chance to. Well, fuck.

 

 

And suddenly everything went black.

* * *

 

Gerard dropped his book bag on the floor, somewhere in a pile of crap that would only be sorted through when his mother forced him. He pulled out his chair with the wheels on it that he loved so much and sat right in front of his most recent project, a serum that could turn a goldfish blue. He basically had it done, though it was toxic (he’d already been through about five fish) and he wanted to fix that. He never told Frank about the animals he killed to accomplish his goals. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

However, Gerard had sort of wished that Frank had been able to hang out that day. He’d gotten this new comic book in the mail the day before and all day he’d been thinking about Frankie’s face when he showed it to him. But that could wait ‘til tomorrow, he supposed. Plus, tomorrow was Friday, so Frank could probably just sleep over and chill until the next morning. Yeah. It would be fun. He just had to wait until tomorrow.

He let out a soft sigh and picked up his pencil, tapping it against his teeth and trying to focus. If he could just…

But his mind wouldn’t let him. He always had trouble working when Frank wasn’t here, lying on the bed behind him and singing off key to whatever song he had playing in his headphones. He just liked having Frank near him. He knew that he shouldn’t be dependent on the other boy. But…he’d had Frank for so long. It was like they were vital parts of each other.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and set his pencil against the paper. The notebook he’d been using was covered in chicken scratch already, so he flipped the page, trying to get a clean slate. Biting on the eraser end of his pencil, he finally earned his concentration and set to work putting formulas together and maybe working closer to his goal. Fuck Frank for distracting him. He had work to do.

He was pacing the floor, head between his hands, thinking (if you looked really closely, you could probably see steam coming out of his ears) when he heard someone knock on his bedroom door. It took him a second or two to register what the sound was and where it was coming from.

That alone was weird. Mikey and his mother knew better than to bother him unless it was for dinner, but it was far from dinner time. It wasn’t that he disliked his family. They just…respected each other’s boundaries.

He walked slowly to the door and opened it, slightly miffed that he was having to break his concentration. He saw his brother standing there, phone in hand in a pair of beat up old sweats. Nothing about it really bothered Gerard, except that Mikey seemed…sad. Like really, really sad. Like on the verge of tears, sad. And Gerard hadn’t seen that for a long, long time. Fuck.

“What is it, Mikes?” Gerard asked, quietly. In response, Mikey just shook his head and shoved the phone into Gerard’s hand. Gerard fumbled to get the phone up to his ear, and the first thing he recognized was the sound of a siren. Then he heard a familiar voice, and his heart beat started to race. He felt dizzy like he might pass out, and he didn’t even know what was going on yet.

“H-hello?”

Mrs. Iero answered, her voice sounding torn apart and strained, like she was heavily crying, “Gerard. I-I thought I should call you. Frank’s been in a very bad car accident. We’re going to the hospital now, b-but hurry if you want to come. He’s not conscious and I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

Gerard felt the world around him shatter as the phone hit the floor beneath him. He stared, wide-eyed at his little brother, willing him to start laughing and say it was a joke. That he’d gotten one of his friends to pull this off and it wasn’t really happening. Mikey just stared back at him with the same expression.

Gerard could barely make out the noise of Mrs. Iero asking if he was still on the line as he sprinted into his room and grabbed his coat and shoes from his mess of a bed. He didn’t bother to put them on as he sprinted past his brother to find his mom and ask her to drive him to the hospital.

 

 

He felt like he was on overdrive, unaware of any of his own actions as his brain tried to wrap itself around the situation. This wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t lose Frank. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

 

He did lose Frank though. 

At 9:02 PM Thursday night, Frank Iero’s heart stopped beating, with Gerard’s hand wrapped around his. 

The cause of death had been summed up simply. Frank had extreme swelling and internal bleeding of the brain from the impact of his head with the steering wheel. That in itself had been enough to kill Frank, but it wasn't all. Frank looked awful with long, open wounds everywhere and blood stains coloring his once white t-shirt a gruesome crimson. He seemed paler, like death had already taken over before Gerard even made it to the hospital.

The second Gerard had laid eyes on his broken friend, he knew it was over, even if Frank’s heart had been beating its last few attempts to heal itself before it finally gave in and accepted its fate. And for once he almost wished he wasn’t a complete science geek. Just so he could have had those last few hours of hope. Those last moments believing that there was a chance for Frank.

But he had spent enough time around dead things to know one when he saw it.

There hadn’t been a single moment when Frank had even breeched consciousness. Gerard thought he saw the other boy’s eyelashes flutter once, but chances were he imagined it. Frank was dead. Very much dead.

And now all Gerard could do was stare down at him. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just looking, watching, hoping that everything he’d ever known about science was wrong and suddenly Frank’s heart would pick up where it left off.

He could hear the sobs of Frank’s mother, out in the hallway, and the comforting murmurs of his own. Frank’s mom hadn’t been in the room since the death had been made official. It was too much for her. It wasn’t enough for Gerard.

When he had arrived, Gerard hadn’t gotten to see Frank at first. He was surrounded by doctors, trying to remove him from his critical condition. It had only taken them an hour or so before they knew there was nothing else to do and simply allowed family and friends to have their last few minutes. Gerard had run his hand through Frankie’s soft, dark hair, across his cheekbones. He’d forced himself to feel Frankie’s still softly beating pulse, longing for it to pull through, at least enough for him to say goodbye.

The only indication of time he had in his empty vacuum was his brother’s hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn away from the body.

 _The body._ Maybe if he just looked at it like that, he could handle this. Bodies were bodies after all. Just because this was- no. It was a body. Much like the squid’s in biology, except maybe a little less…squishy and a little bit more like his best friend.

He jerked his eyes away from Frank’s lifeless face. That face he’d seen contort itself into shit-eating grin after shit-eating grin a hundred times, whether in mocking or just relentless jest. He met his brother’s red, slightly puffy eyes. Oh, right. Crying. He hadn’t done that yet. If he cried, that made things official, he thought. He couldn’t cry, didn’t know if he was capable.

His brother wiped at his eyes. Somewhere in the far reaches of his brain, Gerard found amusement in Mikey’s caring. He’d always known that Mikey didn’t _really_ hate Frank. It was good to know he was right. He honestly didn’t know if it was even possible to hate his late best friend. “We should go now, Gee.”

Gerard nodded and unceremoniously dropped Frank’s cold hand back to the hospital bed. He bit his lip as he took a final look at his friend’s body, everything inside of him screaming just to curl up in the bed next to him like he had so many times before and wait for death to take him too. Because anything would be better than hell on earth without Frank there with him.

 

 

He turned then and silently followed Mikey out of the room. 


	2. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just a couple of things, first. I changed the conditions of Frank's death from the first chapter (because, hey! I'm trying to keep some kind of realism here:)). You don't have to go back and read it, if you don't want to. I clarify in the very beginning what I have it changed to. 
> 
> Also, I really want to thank [elle2706](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elle2706/pseuds/elle2706) for betaing this :D It probably wouldn't be near what it is if it wasn't for her!
> 
> So, yeah. I hope you enjoy!

Monroeville was one of those towns, the ones you hear about in old novels or scary films. The ones with minimal populations, where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Mary Lou knew that Stevie Jane got a shiny, new porcelain doll for her birthday before Stevie Jane even knew herself. And when Mrs. Benson cheated on her husband, it was only a matter of minutes before the whole town was aware of the infidelity.

Thus, it was almost strange that Frank Iero and Gerard Way lived just over a mile away from each other, because such a distance was quite a lot in a town of this size. But they did, and they had spent many summers trying to come up with various ways to build underground tunnels into each other’s bedrooms, unfortunately, to no avail. Had their childish dreams been successful, maybe this story would not need to be told.

In addition to its small size, the town was simple in construction. It consisted of one main street running down the middle of the town. On either side of this street, a variety of small shops and businesses could be found, as well as the usual town essentials like the school and a tiny hospital. A newcomer might walk down this street, the only street of importance in the small town, and wonder if it was actually abandoned. You see, just walking through town, one could feel an eerie sensation in the air. The sidewalks, old and cracked, ran crooked along the edge of this road and the buildings all pointed at the sky at different angles. To add, the weather consisted of rainy days and cloudy days in between.

But the main contributor to the aura of Monroeville was at the end of this long, dilapidated road. Sitting atop a hill, was a windmill, worn and torn by the insistent winds and rains. It sat upon the hill like a ghost, never entered nor approached, just a haunting over the town itself. No one in the town was quite sure if the windmill had ever served a viable purpose. For no one had been alive long enough to serve witness to such a thing.

The day Frank Iero died, it was nothing out of the ordinary. No supernatural occurrences came into play. Not a soul could even stretch the truth of this event to say so. Frank’s truck was hit by an oncoming vehicle in the middle of an intersection. This caused enough severe internal bleeding in the young boy’s brain that he died within hours of the incident. It was a purely scientific death, which occurred directly on the main road of Monroeville.

This being said, no person who hears the story of Frank Iero should take any part in jest. It’s not a story altered by supernatural occurrences at any point. Frank Iero’s death and rebirth occurred scientifically.

Although, one must wonder if the haunting essence of the town aided Gerard Way’s work in any way.

Stranger things had been known to happen in Monroeville.

*******

 

To no one’s surprise, Gerard refused to go to school the day after Frank’s death. The last thing he wanted to hear was every student he and Frank hated walk around talking about how much they had loved Frankie. _His Frankie._ The same boy they’d tormented since the fourth grade. Gerard was the only one who had ever been there for him.

Fuck them all. Every single one of them for thinking they had some right.

He felt like someone had ripped a hole through his chest with a hatchet, but drugged him so he couldn’t feel the pain, just the emptiness. He just felt numb. He was still in denial about the whole thing, and couldn’t bring himself to accept that Frank wasn’t coming over that night to hang out. Frank’s high-pitched giggles wouldn’t ring through his bedroom anymore.

The funeral was on Sunday. It was so soon. Why did funerals have to be so immediate after the death? A person had such minimal time to even accept the death of their loved one before they were six feet in the ground, covered in dirt and never to be seen again.

Gerard still hadn’t cried. He had a feeling that fact was worrying his family. He supposed he should have been drowning in his own tears at this point. But the only thing he could do was stare at his bedroom ceiling, slowly counting the seconds since his best friend had taken his last breath.

They told him it had been an accident. Some stupid asshole had rammed a car, twice the size of Frankie’s into the side of his truck. The other guy was fine. A couple of scratches, but he made it out okay. He seemed sorry, but nothing life changing, it felt like to Gerard. Frank had just been another stupid teenager. Who needed more of those, after all, right? Plus, since apparently the accident had been Frank’s fault (though the man had to have been excessively speeding to cause enough of an impact to kill Frank) the man was facing minimal charges.

It didn’t matter though. Frank was dead, and he was never coming back. Gerard huffed out a breath, letting it sink in for about the hundredth time. It still really hadn’t. He was probably in a deeper state of denial than he would have ever thought possible. There had been once or twice he’d thought he’d heard Frankie’s laugh drifting into his basement, and the pounding of his footsteps as he ran downstairs into Gerard’s room. He didn’t though, obviously. Because Frank was in a marble hole in the wall at the local morgue.

He hadn’t slept at all since Thursday night, afraid that vivid images of Frank’s broken body would invade his slumber. Mikey and his mother had come down occasionally to check on him. They both seemed to have taken it pretty hard (his mother had always been extremely fond of Gerard’s best friend), but stayed as strong as possible when around Gerard. They had puffy, red eyes though. Gerard didn’t.

Maybe at the funeral, things would sink in, and he would suddenly burst into tears. Because one thing was for sure, there was no way he could hold it in forever. The realization would have to hit him eventually. And when it did, it wouldn’t be a friendly tap on the shoulder. It would feel a little bit like getting hit by a two ton SUV.

*******

 

_“Aw, come on, Gee. He really likes you!” Frank giggled, stroking the golden-brown fur of his new puppy._

_Gerard shook his head in disgust. “No, Frank. Keep it to yourself. I don’t want anything to do with that thing.” He put his hands up in front of him, warding off any more attacks. He really could not deal with dog slobber. It didn’t do well with his complexion.  “Just keep it over there, and everyone will be happier.”_

_Frank pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. He’d been so excited to show his new dog to Gerard. And now he was acting like Frank had been offering him the plague. He held his puppy (he hadn’t decided on a name for him yet) in his hands which were securely wrapped in the pup’s armpits. “But…”_

_Gerard looked from his friend’s face and down to the dog’s and back up again. He had to admit it was kinda cute, looking up at him with those big round eyes. Then he caught sight of the drool falling from its mouth and he almost gagged. Cute, sure, but primarily disgusting. Plus, it probably smelled. He couldn’t stand to see Frank looking so heartbroken, though, so he groaned and reached out a hand, lightly petting the fur on top of the dog’s head. This caused a chain reaction in which Frank broke into a grin and then hopped onto his bed, eagerly patting the spot beside himself, inviting Gerard to sit down._

_Gerard took tentative steps to the bed, before finally taking a seat, legs folded beneath him. As soon as he was seated properly, there was a dog shoved into his lap. He looked over, wide-eyed, at Frank who was biting his lip with a huge smile on his face. The dog almost immediately propped itself onto Gerard’s chest, covering his face in a layer of drool._ Fantastic.

_Gerard managed to push the small animal off of him and down into his lap, where, apparently exhausted, it laid down and closed its eyes. Wow. It kind of reminded him of Frank himself. A little ball of energy one minute and out cold in the next. “So what’re you going to name it?”_

_“I haven’t decided what I’m going to name_ him _yet,” Frank replied, reaching over to stroke the fur on the dog’s back lovingly. He didn’t want to make any rash decisions, name him Sparky or Fido. No. He had to put thought into it. “I know! I’ll name him after you, Gee!” he exclaimed, the idea coming to him._

_Gerard’s eyes widened, and he glanced down at the little dog. As flattered as he was, he seriously doubted_ Gerard _would be a very good name for a dog. “You’re going to name your dog Gerard?” he asked, puzzled._

_Frank smirked and shook his head. “No. That would get confusing. I’m going to name him Einstein. Because you know, you’re a lot like him. A total genius and everything. Or Albert…maybe I’ll call him Alby.” Yeah. He really liked that. Alby. He nodded his head with finality._

_Gerard narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth, about to protest that he really had no connection to the twentieth century physicist. But, taking a glance at his friend’s content face, he just smiled back and nodded._

_“Sure. Alby it is.”_

******* 

  

Alby stood by Gerard’s side the entire time he and his mother ate lunch with Mrs. Iero, nudging at the fabric of his black jeans with his nose. Gerard reached down to pet him occasionally, mainly to make sure he didn’t bark and disturb anything. He wouldn’t want to upset Mrs. Iero anymore.

The poor woman looked like she hadn’t slept or eaten since her son’s death. Granted, Gerard hadn’t done so much either, but it wasn’t his first time neglecting sleep. He didn’t really see the mundane act as a vital part of his schedule. And as far as eating, Gerard avoided it, mainly because he didn’t trust himself to hold anything down.

Gerard’s mother had woken him up that Saturday morning, giving him a cup of coffee, which he didn’t drink, and telling him that she had made lunch to take over to the Iero household. She asked if Gerard would like to join her. He had accepted willingly, although his limbs ached slightly as he pulled himself out of bed, having barely moved for two days. He also hadn’t slept for more than two hours, finally managing to fight off his demons around eight in the morning, and not peacefully at that.

He’d avoided the shower and the bathroom altogether. He hadn’t looked at his reflection in a while, and had a feeling he wouldn’t have wanted to. He could feel the bags starting to form under his eyes, he didn’t need to see them too. He pulled on a black t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, somewhere in his mind finding it ironic that his normal clothing fit the current situation.

Linda Iero had been Gerard’s second mother growing up.  She knew how to take care of him from all the times Gerard literally wouldn’t leave her house for weeks at a time during the summer. She knew his favorite foods and all of his habits. Gerard’s mother had been the same way to Frank, and the women had even grown close to each other over time, both being single mothers.

That’s why Donna Lee had taken meals over to the Iero’s about once every two hours for her friend since Thursday night. She had no idea the pain Linda had to have been going through. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she were in the same situation.

When they had arrived at the small home, Mrs. Iero had sat them down, trying her hardest to be a good hostess even through her own pain. Noticing her efforts, Gerard’s mother had promptly gotten up, and told Linda to take a seat. She could handle everything. Linda had nodded, too weak to argue, and taken a seat beside Gerard on the small couch in their living room. They both just sat there, her tear-stained face, buried in her hands, and Gerard’s stoic one looking straight ahead, his fingers scratching behind the ears of the only dog he’d really ever known.

Alby seemed sad. It was like he _knew._ He knew what had happened to Frank and the, now fully-grown, dog was not handling it well. Gerard didn’t know if that was actually possible, for dogs to have a subconscious attachment to their owners, such that they could actually sense their permanent absence. He would have to look into that.

“You can have him.” Gerard heard the frail voice coming from his left, and he looked over, confused. “The dog. You can keep him. H-he reminds me too much…” She looked down at the golden retriever, before her chest was seized by another bout of sobs.

Gerard bit his lip and just nodded. That was the least he could do, he supposed. She certainly didn’t need anything around to bring back memories. Good or bad.

His mother came back in the room then, carrying two plates of food from what she had brought over and handing one to each of the couch’s occupants. Both took their respective plates and thanked her, sounding almost identical in their droning voices.

Gerard watched as his mother took a seat in the armchair across from the couch. Neither Gerard nor Linda touched their plates, Gerard having placed his on the coffee table in front of him and Linda just staring down at the platter, almost in confusion.

Donna Lee tried, futilely a few times to make small talk, obviously trying to draw attention away from the bleak elephant in the room. It didn’t work. Gerard stood and excused himself, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. Alby followed on his heels as he walked down the hall and straight into Frankie’s bedroom.

It confused him as to why the dog was clinging onto him so much. Things had never really changed from that day. It wasn’t like Gerard had grown a loving adoration for the creature. He dealt with it because Frank seemed to love the thing as though it were his own child. Gerard guessed it was due to the familiarity. With Frank gone, Gerard was the next best thing. He couldn’t say he minded.

He took a seat on Frank’s bed, pulling his feet up and crossing his legs beneath himself. The dog immediately hopped up on the bed next to him, putting his head in Gerard’s lap and whimpering softly. Gerard let himself smile sadly down at him, softly patting his back.

“I know, buddy, I know…” he said softly, trailing his eyes around the room. He let his gaze fall over the posters and stacks of books piled in corners. It was all so familiar. Frank’s floor was just as neat as ever. The other boy had been the definition of a neat freak, contrasting greatly with Gerard’s jumbled mess. There had even been times when Frank would come over to the Way’s strictly just to clean Gerard’s bedroom. He spotted a picture sitting on Frank’s dresser of the two of them. Gerard remembered perfectly when they had taken it. It had been a snow day and, unlike normal kids, sledding and building snowmen, he and Frank had stayed inside and built a fort from a variety of pillows and blankets. The day had been only a few short months after the beginning of their friendship. It was so long ago, that Gerard was surprised Frank still had the picture Mrs. Iero had taken of them. He was also surprised he’d never noticed it before.

He spent much longer than the average allotted bathroom time in Frank’s room, but eventually he got up and walked back out to the living room, making sure to grab the picture off Frank’s dresser on the way out. He took a seat in the armchair, now that his mother was comforting Mrs. Iero.

They stayed there for another hour or so, not talking much but just being there seemed like it was enough. At some point, Mrs. Iero apparently decided that she’d kept them too long and she said so, facing copious complaints from his own mother. They wound up leaving, Alby in tow, though only to face the same empty silence on the drive home.

*******

 

 

“So, um, just make yourself at home, I guess,” Gerard said, addressing the dog as he walked back into his bedroom for another afternoon counting the specks on his ceiling. He kind of felt like one of those parents who got custody of their kid, but didn’t really know their child at all. Alby did make himself at home, though, laying down right in the middle of Gerard’s pillows. Gerard sighed, seeing that he couldn’t very well move the big dog. He went over and sat at his desk. He didn’t work though.

Normally he was so eager to work on project after project. But he just didn’t feel the urge, the ever-pressing need for knowledge. Maybe he’d lost his spark…He turned in his chair to face the bed and the dog, who was staring back at him intently.

“What do you want?” he asked, sneering. The dog just whimpered and cocked its head at him.

That was Frank’s spot, he thought, suddenly. And with that realization, he knew he didn’t want Alby there. He didn’t want him in his room even. This stupid…stupid fucking dog was symbolically tearing him apart. He suddenly felt too closed in, too hot, itchy. He got up, grabbing the dog’s leash and hooked it onto his collar. Biting his lip, he took the dog upstairs, depositing him in his brother’s room. Mikey gave him a strange look from where he was seated on his bed.

“Just for tonight. Please?”

Mikey nodded his consent, wanting to help his brother in any way he could. He glanced at Alby, who had already hopped into the chair in his room, and sighed.

******* 

 

The funeral was at 10 AM. The Ways all got ready in silence, Gerard actually taking a shower, figuring Frank would at least have wanted him to do that. They locked Alby up in Mikey’s room and got into the car heading for the graveyard.

Monroeville’s graveyard was placed on the outskirts of town, on the opposite end of the windmill. It was fairly widespread, spanning a large area of land. As they headed out to Frankie’s “resting place” Gerard made sure to take mental note of how to get there. Even if it hurt him, he had plans to visit as often as he could. And as far as he was concerned that would be pretty damn often. Once a day, if he could manage. He needed to keep whatever lifeline to his friend he could.

There were some familiar faces in the crowd. It wasn’t an impressively large group. Many people tried to comfort him. Telling him it was okay, and that they _understood._ Like hell they did. He would just nod his head at each comment, trying to avoid physical confrontation when possible.

The service wasn’t long, and Gerard remained silent through it, listening to the quiet sobs coming from the sea of black surrounding him. He knew he should have listened to the words spoken about his best friend, but he also knew it was a bunch of bullshit. Frankie had been a rebellious little asshole, he didn’t deserve a blessing from god or the hand of an angel to guide him. No. What Frank deserved was to be alive.

Gerard felt himself begin to grow angry over the course of the ceremony. Angry at the people around him, with the exception of a small few, for pretending they had known and loved his best friend. Angry at the world, for taking Frank right out of his grasp when he least expected it. He just…he wished there was a way he could turn the tables. Say _fuck you_ right back at the system. Spit in its face. If only there was a way. But how could you fuck with fate?

As the final words were being spoken, Gerard watched as his friend’s casket was lowered into the ground. That was it, he thought. He’d lost Frankie and he’d lost him for good. He turned away from the crowd, before the ceremony was even finished or Frank’s casket finished lowering. He couldn’t take it. So he ran.

Luckily, it was a small town, so he did actually have the option to run home, which he did, huffing the whole way. He wasn’t in the best shape, but he didn’t really care. The pain felt good. It caught up with him though, and he soon found himself huddled up under a random tree, his knees hugged to his chest. He buried his face into the fabric of his pants. He wanted to scream, to punch something, anything. Instead he bit his knee, hard, his teeth bearing into his flesh through the pant leg.

This was so wrong. Everything was wrong. Frank didn’t deserve to die. No one did. But especially not Frankie. Gerard couldn’t even…he couldn’t think of a person who deserved to live more than Frank. _Why?_ Nothing made any fucking sense. He would give his life a million times over to just see Frank’s eyes light up again. To give him a hug and hold him. But he couldn’t and he never would again.

******* 

 

 

_There was a soft tapping noise coming from his right, the rhythmic sound impairing Gerard’s ability to focus. The science fair was coming up and he_ needed _to get his work done. He was determined to win this year. He saw that the noise was coming from Frank, tapping his foot against the headboard of Gerard’s bed, and looking over at him, eyes full of intent._

_Gerard opened his mouth to tell him to stop, but before he could utter a word, Frank piped up, “So. I saw you looking at the new kid. All googly eyed and shit...You like him?”_

_Gerard’s mouth gaped, and he felt a blush rising to his cheeks. He turned back to his work, ducking his head. “No. I definitely don’t.”_

_He watched out of the corner of his eye as Frank came over and stood next to him, taking the paper from in front of his eyes and placing it on a bookshelf in order to claim Gerard’s attention. “C’mon, Gee. You know you can talk to me,” he rolled his eyes. That much should be obvious. “We talk about my shitty relationships all the time.”_

_Gerard turned to him then, locking their eyes. “I really don’t, Frankie. I don’t like the new guy,” he stated honestly. The new guy was cool, he could admit that. His name was Ray and he had this huge fro that you could probably see for miles. Ray was really awesome. He was into all of the same things as Frank and Gerard, and had even started sitting with them at lunch. But Gerard wasn’t…not like that._

_Frank huffed, not satisfied with the answer, but he believed him. “Fine. Is there_ anyone _?” he asked, hopefully, raising his eyebrows about an inch._

_Now it was Gerard’s turn to roll his eyes, letting out a breath. “No, Frank. If you haven’t noticed, our school has about five students, and I am almost positive I’m the only gay one there.” Or at least the only one who was out, there were definitely some questionables._

_Frank gave him a small, sad smile and took Gerard’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. “I know, Gee…I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?”_

_Gerard nodded, eyes locked on their joined hands before he looked up to meet Frank’s gaze. “Right.” He squeezed his hand back before pulling away. “Now, seriously, dude, shut up so I can work.”_

*******

 

It was Monday morning, and Gerard was very late to class. Despite this, he still wasn’t going anywhere, because he was being attacked. Or, well, his version of being attacked which involved a mouthful of curly hair and a tearstained t-shirt.

Ray Toro had been sobbing into Gerard’s chest all morning, and all Gerard could do was hold onto him and force himself not to join in. Not here. Not in the middle of the school hallway. It was another few minutes before Ray pulled back, dragging the back of his hand across his eyes and staring at Gerard. “I-I’m sorry, man. I just…”

Gerard shook his head and reached out an arm to squeeze Ray’s shoulder. “I know, Ray. I know. Let’s just get to class, okay?” Ray nodded weakly, and he and Gerard made their way first to the attendance office for their passes (excused because they were apparently getting off easy for a little while) and then to their first period English class.

The class was incredibly tense, probably still feeling the aftershocks from the death of a peer. Their teacher, who normally would have yelled and found a way to embarrass them, simply nodded at the tardy boys and asked them to take their seats. Gerard took his normal seat next to Patrick, Ray behind him. He made sure not to glance to his right where he would see an empty desk. 

Patrick looked up at him as he got seated. It was a few minutes later that the blonde boy was passing him a slip of paper. Gerard took and unfolded it carefully. _How are you holding up?_ it read in Patrick’s tiny scrawl. Patrick and Frank had never really been good friends. He and Gerard had become friends because of a common interest in science. Patrick was more of a chemistry guy though. He’d always been a good friend to have.

Gerard pulled out a pencil and thought about his answer, not even knowing himself how to respond truthfully. _Not any better; not any worse,_ he wrote out underneath the other boy’s message. He passed it back and stared as Patrick’s eyes flitted over the writing. As soon as he was done though, Gerard tore his eyes back up the teacher. He couldn’t let Patrick see that even that was a lie.

*******

 

He was sitting in biology. The bell had just rung, and Mrs. Anderson had yet to come waddling in, full pregnant belly and all. He had a little less luck _not_ noticing Frank’s absence in this class. He and Frank didn’t share second period together, and in third there were assigned seats, so they’d sat on opposite ends of the room (they would usually throw paper balls at each other though, or well, Frank would throw stuff at him). But now, there was an open void directly next to him at the little two-person desk.

People all around the room kept giving him weird looks, staring like he was an animal at the zoo. Most of them he just ignored, but one kid, who stared particularly long, he flipped off, earning a gasp. _Good,_ he thought. _Now tell all your buddies to back the fuck off._

He had gotten questioned incessantly all day long. Teachers and students asking him if he was okay. His standard answer was a simple “No,” followed by a less than dramatic exit. He probably could have come up with something more creative and snarky, but he wasn’t in the mood.

Suddenly the door opened and in walked a man. He had short blonde hair and was pretty scruffy, like he hadn’t shaved in a week, maybe two. From what Gerard could tell, he had blue eyes and didn’t seem very thrilled to be there.

“Mrs. Anderson has had her baby,” the man said immediately, addressing the students from the front of the room. The class made approving nods and several girls started shouting out questions about whether it was a girl or a boy and how much it weighed. Gerard just groaned. Mrs. Anderson hadn’t been a very good teacher to begin with. The last thing they needed was some unqualified asshole teaching this class. He already knew the curriculum, but, as much as he hated everyone in there, he didn’t think the world needed anymore uneducated idiots roaming the streets.

“I will be teaching this class for the remainder of the year. My name is Bob Bryar. You should probably call me Mr. Bryar though, just because that’s what society deems appropriate.” The man ran a hand through his hair and sighed, obviously wanting to be there just as much as they did. “Well, let me start off by saying that I went to college for eight years. Don’t ask me why I’m working a sub job if I have degree that could probably take me to the moon and back, because I honestly couldn’t tell you if I tried,” he continued, sounding bored. “I’m probably more qualified than your last teacher, and could tell you more than you’d ever want to know about this class. But I’m going to try to avoid that because chances are you don’t care anyways.”  Gerard perked up a bit as he heard the sub’s monologue. Maybe this guy would be _better_ than Mrs. Anderson.

Mr. Bryar turned away from the class, looking like he’d already said more than he’d wanted to for the day. He pulled a sheet of paper up in front of his eyes and scanned over it. “Alright, so I need to take roll. Just say ‘here’ or something…Joey Anklerman?” He continued to go through the list, and then, stumbling over the Italian name, “Frank Iero?” The whole class froze, a couple shot glances back at Gerard.

Gerard coughed into the back of his hand and said, loud enough so it could be heard from the back of the room, “He’s dead.” The lack of efficiency in taking people off the roster astounded him. You would think that would be one of the first things on the main office’s to-do list.

Their new teacher let out a small laugh, thinking it was a joke, and looked up from the paper only to see the stony faces around him. “Oh. Well, um.” He gulped, then looked back at the sheet, apparently at a loss for words. Who wouldn’t be though? Was there a handbook for ‘what to do when there’s a dead student in the class you’re subbing’? Gerard guessed the answer was no.

The roll call continued, Gerard saying ‘here’ last. The teacher made eye contact with him, noticing that the only empty seat in the room was directly adjacent to the kid. The guy didn’t seem like a very compassionate person, but Gerard could have sworn he saw a form of sympathy flash across his eyes.

Mr. Bryar shook himself though and then walked over to the small fridge where Mrs. Anderson had kept all of her perishables. Usually that was just her lunch, since they didn’t do anything of educational value in the class. The most interesting thing they’d done that year had been dissecting squids. The man pulled out a small silver tray, but instead of a squid, it held a dead frog, and brought it up to the small counter at the front of the room, standing behind it. Gerard could just imagine Frankie’s face if he were there, sitting beside him. He might have even grabbed Gerard’s hand to cover his eyes.

“Alright munchkins,” their teacher regarded them, voice laced with sarcasm. “Today, you will learn the importance and brilliance of the human muscle system.” He went on to explain what he meant, talking about how the muscles were all connected and it was simple energy that moved them. For once in that stupid biology class, Gerard was actually intrigued. He watched as the new teacher pulled out a small machine from under the counter. The contraption had two alligator clips running from wires attached to it. As their teacher attached the clips to the frog’s legs, he gave them a smile. “Bet you all have never done this.”

“You see,” he continued, flipping a switch on the machine. “The wiring remains even after death. And since electricity is the only force making the muscles react, we, measly beings that we are, can even supply that source.” He turned a dial and the class gasped and watched the frog’s legs shoot up in the air. Gerard sat up in his seat, staring at the sight before him.

And suddenly, Gerard knew he was crazy. He was absolutely whacked out of his mind. He had half a mind to go down to guidance and ask them to book him a room in the closest asylum. Because he had to be, right?

No sane person would look at a frog, zapped with electricity, and figure out a way to bring their friend back from the dead.

But he did. And now he knew what he had to do.

*******

 

 

“Hey, Frankie…” Gerard shivered lightly in the night air, pulling his jacket around him as tightly as he could. It was almost midnight, and he was seated on the ground in front of Frank’s grave, his legs folded beneath him. He knew his pants were probably getting horribly dirty, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He ran his fingers through the soft dirt he was sitting in, the grass not having sprouted yet. At the foot of the headstone were a small variety of flowers, most of which had been left in the preceding days. One small bouquet looked a bit fresher, though, and Gerard had a feeling Mrs. Iero had been there earlier that day.  

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a little bundle he had tucked up under his arm, and set it in front of himself. He let out a faint laugh, then bit his lip. “I, uh…this is really stupid, and you would probably just laugh at me if you were here.” He unrolled the comics in his hands. It was so easy to imagine that Frank was sitting there right in front of him. “I thought it would be kinda cheesy to bring flowers, so I brought Doom Patrol instead,” he chuckled, staring at the engraved letters on the headstone. “I mean, what’s the point of bringing flowers anyway, you know? They just die. Might as well bring something you would actually enjoy. Oh, and I brought this too.” He held up the small picture frame containing the picture of them he’d taken from Frank’s room, as though he were showing it to Frank.

He took a second to lean forward and arrange the items so that they were leaning against the headstone. When he sat back, he twisted his hands together, looking down at the dirt. The eerie silence of the graveyard filled his ears, and eventually he let out a sigh.

“I had an idea, Frankie…Earlier today. I had an idea. And I think it’s gonna work. Y-you just need to hang on, okay?” He continued to wring his hands, now staring at the _In Loving Memory of_ written just at the top, over Frank’s name.

Gerard had spent all afternoon, working diligently in his bedroom, putting down ideas and formulas. Things he thought would work, and plans he had. He already knew two things. He would need to act fast, and he would need more power than a six volt battery. No, he needed something like lightning. In fact, he was going to get just that. Wednesday night, there was an almost one hundred percent chance of thunderstorms, and he had every intention of having Frankie back by Thursday morning.

“I’m gonna get you back. I’m gonna do it. You’d probably call me crazy,” he laughed, his eyes shifting over the stone. “And…maybe I am. But whatever. I need you, Frankie.” He didn’t stop himself from letting it all out, then, his voice trembling. Maybe because he knew no one was really listening or maybe because he didn’t really care anymore. “God, Frank. I’ve always needed you. I-I think that…if things were the other way around, you’d be fine. Well, what I mean is, that you’re—you always were really strong. Stronger than me, anyways. You could get over it. Losing me. You could hang out with Toro, and make new friends. You’d survive. Easily. B-but I _can’t,_ Frank. I can’t live without you.” He blinked a couple times, running a hand through his hair. He took a second to breathe and dig his fingers into the dirt after the words poured out.

“So I’m not going to,” he stated with finality, the strength back in his voice. He crawled off of the grave then, and over to the side, laying down in the grass, facing the sky. He closed his eyes and curled in on himself, shielding his body from the wind. Had it not been so cold, he probably would have fallen asleep there, lying next to Frank’s grave. Instead he just laid there thinking for a long while, until the chill go to his bones and he could no longer stand it.

*******

 

The next day at school, people went back to their normal activities. Having fulfilled their moral duty to check up on him, the small population of faculty and students continued with their daily routine of ignoring his existence.

Gerard spent a good portion of the day huddled over his notebook, running his hands through his hair as he thought and prepared.

During lunch, he was doodling a picture of a grave in the corner of his notebook page as he reflected on the previous day. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head around to meet Ray’s worried eyes. He realized then that he probably seemed a bit mad. Okay, maybe really crazy. By now there were probably gigantic bags under his eyes from his considerable lack of sleep, and he hadn’t showered since the funeral, hadn’t even changed out of his clothes from the previous day. He was running on coffee and adrenaline.

“Gee, man, you feeling okay?” Ray asked him quietly, his eyes pleading. He cared, and Gerard was thankful for that, he really was. He was glad that someone gave a shit about him, but he knew he couldn’t confide in Ray. He couldn’t confide in anyone. This was his little secret, and if he didn’t want to get stopped he needed to put on a mask.

He forced his face into a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. How’re you feeling, Toro?” he asked, turning the conversation toward his friend and praying the distraction would work.

Ray looked like he wanted to protest the change in topic before he crumpled and just looked back down at his school prepared lunch, sighing. “Not too good, I guess,” he replied softly.

Gerard simply gave his friend a pat on the back, knowing there was really nothing to say, before looking back down at his notebook.

*******

 

 

Gerard was greeted by Mikey and his friend Pete by the main entrance after school. It still amazed him that Mikey had friends, or at least, a friend. Not that he didn’t enjoy his brother as a person, but when Mikey was around non-blood he was either flirtatious or downright dispassionate. Even around Gerard he remained fairly emotionless. But that was just his personality.

They began the walk home, Gerard trailing behind the pair. His brother and Pete were bantering back and forth about something or another, which Gerard ignored, his mind flitting to ideas of Frank’s revival. It was the only thing on his mind lately.

About halfway through the trip, Gerard got Mikey’s attention and told him he was taking a walk in another direction. Mikey simply nodded and continued walking, but Pete gave him a weird look, as though he were suspicious. Gerard felt the urge to flip the kid off, but resisted, determined to be the bigger man.

Gerard hadn’t ever really liked Pete. He didn’t understand why his brother did. With his strange, angular haircut, dyed jet-black at all times, and wanna-be outfits, he just was _not_ on Gerard’s A-list. Plus, he always had an attitude and tried to get into anyone’s business whenever he could. He was probably Mikey’s polar opposite.

Gerard headed away from Mikey and Pete, toward a small thrift store on the opposite side of the road. From the plans he had so far, he knew he needed more materials. Some of which he knew he could find lying around his house and in his garage. It wasn’t like the stuff he needed was technical equipment. For the most part he just needed to be able to conduct electricity from one place to another.

It was a quick trip, and he walked out with a shopping cart with several small items clattering around together. He’d bought three kites, a few coils of wire and some small electronics (a radio, toaster, and what seemed to be an old telephone, though it was bent pretty far out of shape) he found for a good price. Once he made it home again, he did a quick sweep, to make sure his mother was out of sight and then emptied the cart into his arms, carrying the items downstairs with some difficulty.

He walked into his room and stopped in his tracks, staring over at his laboratory area in shock.

At the edge of his room, staring at his note-filled chalkboard was the devil dressed in skinny jeans and a bright green hoodie.

Having heard him enter, Pete turned toward the older boy. “What’s this?” he asked, curiously, raising his eyebrows and pointing a thumb at the board behind him.

The board was a complete mess of drawings, formulas and notes. Gerard had sketched some models of the human body, arrows pointing to the areas where Frank would undoubtedly need repair. He had written down several theories from his wide collection of biology texts. Many pertaining to the idea of life itself, and the ways it could be contorted for the use of mankind. Of course, normally those idea were referring to the prospect of cloning, not bringing the dead back to life, but they were still useful philosophies.

Just from the look on his face, Gerard could tell the freshman knew perfectly well what _that_ was. He was just being a little asshole, as per usual.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Wentz,” Gerard sneered, not five seconds away from tearing the teenager’s pretty little throat out.

Pete looked like he was holding back a laugh as he sat down in Gerard’s chair. “You would think that someone would be a little bit more careful about hiding things if they’re this touchy about them.” Gerard simply rolled his eyes. _You would think that most normal people would be more considerate about snooping around where they’re not wanted._ “But whatever, that’s not relevant. What _is_ relevant is that your best friend recently bit the dust, am I right?”

Gerard forced back every instinct he had to walk over and stab Pete with one of the scalpels on his counter. It would be so, so easy. He could probably even muffle the screams with a towel or something.

“So…it’s pretty hard to read your scribbles, I will give you that. But hiding what this is would be pretty hard no matter what,” the young boy added, gesturing at Gerard’s chalkboard again. He sounded so fucking cocky. Someone needed to teach this boy a lesson, Gerard thought, knock the arrogance right out of his system. Pete got up and started to point at the board, as he read out different things. “Needs blood to brain and heart, rest will stem from there,” Pete read out loud, squinting to read the writing correctly. “Let’s see…brain damage? Will need to fix swelling. High power source needed…” He continued to point out various notes until Gerard cut him off.

“Shut up, Pete. What do you want?” He kept his voice even, getting closer to losing his resolve by the second.

“You’re trying to bring him back, aren’t you?” Pete asked, his eyes bright and excited as he finally let his laughter out, mocking Gerard wholeheartedly. _What a little shit. He has no idea._

“ _Wentz, out!_ ” Gerard yelled, pointing to the door. Okay, he was done being nice, if Pete didn’t get out of his room right that second, he was going to smash his face in with a beaker.

Pete calmed his laughter and held his hands up in surrender. “No, no. Hold on. Sorry. I want to help.”

This time, Gerard laughed. Yeah. Right. Pete Wentz and Gerard Way working together. What a team. No fucking way. “No fucking way,” he said aloud, shaking his head.

“Aw, come on, Gerard. This is so cool. Not that I think you’re actually going to be able to pull it off, that’s sci-fi shit and totally impossible. But still, I can help you out. Besides, you don’t really have another option. You don’t want the whole town knowing about this little thing, now do you?” he asked, the corner of his annoying little mouth quirking up into a half-grin.

He absolutely did not want the whole town knowing about this. They’d probably throw him in the loony bin or burn him alive on the charge of witchcraft. He shrugged though, as if the threat didn’t affect him. “Nah, if I don’t pull it off, then no one’ll care anyway.”

Pete huffed, mad that he was losing the argument. He seemed to be thinking it over before he added, his face lighting up again, “How do you plan on getting the body?”

Shit. Gerard hadn’t even thought about that. Frank was small. But the idea of having to dig the grave up _and_ carry the dead weight all the way back to his house by himself was quite daunting. And would probably take much more time than he had.

Seeing his perplexed expression, Pete added, “See! You need help. Who else could you ask?”

Well…he couldn’t ask Mikey. Mikey would surely try to convince him to stop and tell him that this was not a good idea. He didn’t need that. Anyone else would say the same thing. Gerard let out a groan, reluctant to admit Pete was right. “Shouldn’t you be with Mikey or something?”

The other boy waved a dismissive hand at him, “Mikey’s being boring. I think he’s gotten all attached to that dog. Stop trying to change the subject, though. Do you want my help or not?”

Gerard walked up to the chalkboard, picking up a piece and starting to work. “Just...be here tomorrow night. Eleven o’ clock sharp, don’t be late.”

Pete’s eyes lit up as he agreed eagerly and finally exited the room, leaving Gerard to his preferred silence. Once the coast was clear, he walked back over to his desk, and sighed, letting his elbows rest against the surface. He was so tired, he could hardly even keep his eyes open. He knew he still had work to do. There was so much preparation to be done.

After a few moments of just massaging his head to get rid of a splitting headache, he sat up and stared around the room, which was now even more of a hopeless mess than usual.

Being a high school student, the space he called his laboratory wasn’t much. There was the large chalkboard on one wall, and a counter, made from some spare cabinets he’d found at a yard sale, spanning another. Then directly across the room from this counter was Gerard’s tiny desk, the surface of which couldn’t be seen for the presence of about five open notebooks.

Most of his supplies, which sprawled in chaos across the counter, he’d gotten from the biology room at school, throwing the tubes and beakers in his backpack when Mrs. Anderson hadn’t been paying attention. She didn’t seem to care or even notice that her tools were missing, so he didn’t worry about it. Alongside the small collection of glass containers could be found an assortment of books on varying topics, open to different pages with post-it notes depicting the sections Gerard found helpful. Then there were balled up papers and pencils cluttering the area to the point that only Gerard himself could navigate the place.

He turned to face his desk, opening one of the notebooks up to a new page. As of that moment, the thing he needed to focus on was finding a mixture that could reduce the swelling in Frank’s brain. Since Frank’s accident had, obviously, been fatal, his injuries were not minor. Gerard needed to be sure that when he brought Frank back, his body would be in shape enough that he could function properly.

Glancing up for a moment, he noticed that thetiny goldfish he’d been working with the week before was now floating upside down in its bowl.

He only had one shot at this. This wasn’t like the goldfish. He couldn’t just go to the pet store and pick up another one. Frank would either come back to life or he would die, for good this time. And it all depended on how careful Gerard was. It was a lot of pressure he was putting on himself, and he wanted to believe he could handle it. Seeing the little floating body of the fish made him realize, though, just how easily this could all go wrong.

*******

 

 

It had been another long night. Gerard had probably only slept for an hour tops, and he dozed off in all of his classes the next day, causing his friends to look more worried than ever. Patrick had started poking him with a pencil during English, mainly checking that Gerard was alive. He was, although barely.

Most people probably assumed he was just taking the death really hard. Which, he supposed, could be one way to describe it.

Tonight was the big night, though. And even though school was boring and didn’t hold much motivation to stay awake for, he knew he’d find the energy to get through the night. And once he had Frankie back, he could probably sleep for a week straight. But only then.

When Ray offered to take him home that day, he accepted. With his limbs weighed down with exhaustion, the two-mile trek seemed comparable to the Boston marathon.

Neither of them really talked in the front of Ray’s car. Ray wasn’t necessarily a very talkative guy, and while normally Gerard would have had something to say, current circumstances prevented his brain from operating properly.

They said their goodbyes as Ray dropped him off at his front door, telling him to make sure he got a good night’s sleep. Gerard smiled back at him, lying as he agreed he would.

After making a pot of coffee and drinking enough to be sufficiently unhealthy, he headed up to the attic.

It was about two years ago that Gerard had attempted his first research involving fire. Needless to say, it hadn’t ended well in the cramped basement, but luckily, left minimal damage. The charred spots on the ceiling were the only remaining indications of the incident. However, scared out of her mind, his mother insisted that Gerard perform any such ordeals in the attic from then on, and Gerard hadn’t argued.

Even so, he had never spent much time up there for a few reasons. One being that he was lazy. The majority of his equipment made its home in his bedroom. He could have even relocated to the upper room, but that took significant effort, which he didn’t possess. Also, the space was crawling with spiders. Gerard really had no issue with the tiny creatures. He actually would have liked to study them at some point, if the opportunity arose. But Frank had been terrified. He refused to even step foot in the attic, for fear of being eaten alive.

So any day Gerard had been inclined to perform an experiment requiring more space, Frank had gone home, not even hesitating before announcing his exit. And, needless to say, Gerard hated that.

However there was one reason, especially at the moment, Gerard loved the attic. Right at the crown of the rooftop, the Way’s house had a sizeable window. It allowed for the departure of smoke when need be. Also, he thought it would work perfectly for his operation on Frank. 

One of the things he’d done yesterday was to transfer all of the necessary gear upstairs. He hadn’t set anything up yet and the wires and other items were still piled up along the wall.

The attic space was pretty dark and musty, with only one small light bulb dangling from a wire in the ceiling. The wood creaked loudly if you stepped on it the wrong way, and if you listened closely you could hear the sound of the ancient pipes shifting in the walls. If Gerard looked straight up, he could see the window in the ten-foot ceiling, closed at the moment. He could reach it if he used the ladder they kept up there just for that purpose. Being a neglected area of the house, the winds could be felt easily through the thin walls, the sound of whistling heard as it came through. There were cobwebs covering every inch of space and possibly even some mice skittering around.

Gerard lost track of time, putting to action all of his plans from the last two days. He created a pulley system, which ran from the floor to the window up above, from a long chain he’d found in the garage. He would use it to raise a platform, made of wooden planks, holding Frank’s body up to the window. Besides this, he ran wire from one electronic to another, creating an easy pathway for electricity to flow around the room, gaining more power as it traveled. All of this would be connected to bolts he would implant in Frank’s neck which would create the shocks through his body.

Glancing at his watch, Gerard realized that it was already five minutes after eleven and Pete would be outside waiting for him. Oh well, the kid probably needed to stand around in the cold for a little while. Give him a nice, hard slap of reality.

He slowly meandered his way upstairs, making sure, first, that his family was sound asleep, before he hurried outside, almost running right into Pete, who was shivering just outside his front door. Catching himself just in time, Gerard came to an abrupt stop and managed, in his mild shock, “Woah. Hey. Pete. Um. How are you?”

Pete cocked an eyebrow at the slightly older boy and didn’t say a word in response. Gerard grunted, embarrassed that he’d been the one to make a fool out of himself.

Glancing up at the sky, Gerard was happy to see that ominous looking clouds were forming already, a thunderstorm imminent in the next couple of hours. They’d have to work quickly, though, if they didn’t want to get poured on.

He made his way over to the small garage, pulling open the door. He grabbed the two shovels and tarp he’d prepared earlier that day and handed one of the shovels to Pete, who seemed excited already. _Grave digging, how cool._

As they started to walk, Gerard tried to stay at least a step ahead, simply for superiority reasons. After a few minutes, Gerard began to question internally why Pete even wanted to help him. It just didn’t really add up. It wasn’t like the other boy was getting anything out of this. Gerard was just going to kick him to the curb as soon as they got the body back to his house. He voiced his question out loud, his voice contemplative.

“Who wouldn’t want to be a part of this, man? If you actually do it, I get to say I helped you. And if you don’t, well, no harm done,” Pete shrugged, looking straight ahead. There seemed to be something else he wasn’t saying though, so Gerard wanted to pry more.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I guess it’s pretty cool. But wouldn’t it be more fun for you to just tell the whole school that Gerard the freak finally went nuts?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. It was a good point. Not many people would believe that Gerard had succeeded, after the fact. But most people would definitely believe he had tried and failed, proving at long last that he was crazy.

Pete nodded, like he understood where Gerard was coming from. “I don’t know. I guess…Frank was pretty cool, you know? I just think…he didn’t deserve to die. So if there’s a chance you could bring him back, you should take it.” He acted nonchalant as the words came out, but Gerard could tell he really meant them. Pete probably had looked up to Frank. It wasn’t surprising. Frank had been role model material. He hadn’t fit in with the masses, by any means, but he held his ground and, fuck, he fought back. He didn’t take shit from anyone, and put out a good example for kids like Pete.

It was a few minutes later, that Pete spoke up again, an incredulous undertone to his voice and a mischievous smile on his face. “So what about you, Way? You do realize this isn’t the normal way to mourn the death of a friend, right?”

Oh, yeah. There was no way Gerard could overlook that fact. He was taking drastic measures to bring Frank back, there was no doubt. And he knew what Pete was thinking. Hell, he knew what every single kid at their high school thought.

Gerard was gay. He was the _only_ gay kid out at their high school, not by choice, but that was a story for another time. Time and time again, Gerard had taken crap for it, and of course, Frank had been by his side through it all. Unfortunately, though, this also meant Frank took a lot of crap for it too. The dumbasses at their school would point and call names, telling Frank to either “stop hanging out with the faggot”, or “go make out with his boyfriend”. Either way, it didn’t really matter. Frank had a temper and there had been countless times Gerard had stopped a fight before it started.

It racked Gerard’s conscience. He hated that _he_ was one of the reasons kids picked on Frank. In fact, if he was being realistic, Frank probably could have been perfectly fine in high school had it not been for Gerard. Gerard, feeling as he did, had taken every possible opportunity to voice this to Frank, always receiving a hard punch in the arm or a “stop being a dumbass.” But the problems didn’t go away.

“Frank was my best friend, I think that gives me the right to do what I can to get him back if I’m able,” was Gerard’s smug reply. He wasn’t going to stand here and pour his heart out to Pete-fucking-Wentz. 

They came up to the graveyard, and Gerard heaved a sigh. The gate was kept locked at night, but the fence was short, so the pair had no trouble hopping it.

They found Frank’s grave pretty easily, Gerard retracing the path he’d made in his mind. Even though it wasn’t his first time seeing it, Gerard still held his breath as they came up to the tiny gravestone. It was such an official ending. Every person lived and every person died and it all came down to this:  A stone placed at the head of your grave.

_Well,_ Gerard thought as he thrust the shovel into the ground without preamble, _I guess not all endings are as permanent as they first seem._

Pete soon joined him, digging up dirt, and throwing it off to their side, neither boy bothered by the implications of their illegal activity. Everyone in the town was snug in their beds, as it was.

In movies it always seemed so easy, Gerard found himself thinking, as his back began to ache and the muscles in his arms throbbed. They would always skip the strenuous part, and _poof_ the grave was dug! No. It was fucking painful, and he seriously doubted he could have done this alone without passing out right there in the middle of the graveyard. He was sweating profusely, stopping occasionally to wipe a hand across his clammy brow.

He lost track of time, mesmerized by the rhythm he and Pete seemed to develop as their shovels hit the ground. He guessed it probably took them anywhere from an hour and a half to three hours to finally hit something solid. Gerard almost jumped for joy when he heard the cheerful _clink_ of metal on metal, but he managed to keep his cool.

He crouched down, and ran his hands through the dirt still covering the surface of the coffin. Pete, who had climbed out of the hole, was now laying on his stomach at the side, looking down at him. “So, you gonna open it?” he asked casually, like opening your friend’s coffin was just an everyday activity.

Gerard looked up, and gulped. “Oh, yeah, of course.” He walked off of the top of the coffin and stood to the side. He bent over and found the seam where the top met the body of the box. It was terribly heavy, and he had to brace his feet and use his legs for strength to lift it up.

Once he finally had the lid open, he let himself look inside, and a shiver ran up his spine, the night air suddenly seeming even chillier. Frank’s body was there, just as it should be, his pale hands folded neatly over his chest and hair perfectly combed. He was picturesque in black, white and red with his suit and dress shirt fitted flawlessly to his small frame. His face was so calm and relaxed, eyes shut and mouth forming a perfectly straight line. There was a long-dead rose sitting in the lapel of his suit jacket, still scarlet red, but missing quite a few petals which were scattered around. The white silk interior of the box was a little dirty, but for the most part, it seemed as though the coffin had done a good job at protecting his friend’s body from deterioration or anything worse. Gerard could still see the signs of Frank’s concussion in the gory looking gash at his hairline, he’d been cleaned up pretty well though before burial. They always needed the body to look nice before it was gone. It was improper to send someone off looking awful. Nobody wanted to remember a bloodied, broken body.

Gerard couldn’t help it when he crouched down and brushed some stray hair out of Frank’s face, biting his lip as he did so. “Fuck, Frankie…” he whispered, quietly enough that Pete wouldn’t be able to hear him. Pulling his hand back, he looked back up at Pete who was staring down at Frank’s body in awe. “Alright, you wanna help or just watch?” 

They got the body out of the grave with little difficulty, each holding one end as they pushed it onto ground level. Gerard continuously warned Pete to be careful, not wanting any damage done. They closed the coffin and climbed out of the hole. It was significantly easier to throw the dirt back on top of the coffin in a makeshift manner, finishing in a matter of thirty minutes. It was just then, though that the sky opened up and it started to rain, getting the dirt wet and their shoes muddy.

They helped each other in wrapping Frank’s body with the tarp, Gerard thanking any higher powers that they lived in a small town and no one was out at night, because carrying around a body-shaped tarp was hardly inconspicuous.

By the time they got back to the Way home it was nearly three in the morning. They had had to stop several times as one or the other lost their grip on their side. It was harder than it seemed, apparently, especially as their clothes became soaked, dragging them down. Once there, though, Pete helped Gerard to situate Frank in his own arms, before letting go.

Pete shook his head, little droplets of water flinging everywhere, and pulled the tarp up over Frank’s head which had lolled over to the side. He laughed, “I can’t fucking believe this, man.”

Gerard had to laugh a little too, because, yeah, it was kinda crazy as hell. “Yeah…well. Neither can I,” he gave a small grin, before turning toward the door and saying goodbye. He turned his head though at the last minute, seeing Pete’s back turned toward him. “Thanks, by the way, Pete.”

Pete turned back toward him and smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I know. There’s no way you could have pulled this off without me, asshole. You owe me a fruit basket or something.”

Gerard rolled his eyes as he pushed the door open, significantly annoyed by Pete Wentz again. He could admit, though, the kid had his moments.

It was utterly silent in his house as he made his way up the stairs, shifting Frank’s body in his arms to keep his grip. Frank was heavy as hell, especially when Gerard was the only one to support the weight. He leaned against the stairwell wall for support and finally reached the attic where he deposited Frank on the small table he had prepared with a grunt.

He could still hear the claps of thunder outside as he took the tarp off and began to work. He stripped his friend down to his boxers, only feeling a little awkward as he did so. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

Frank’s chest was stark white, illuminated only by the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was easier now to see all of the places where Frank had been battered. Gerard ran his fingers lightly over the wounds, before grabbing his equipment and making quick work of fixing everything up properly. When he was done, several long lines of stitches could be seen running across Frank’s chest and one which ran from the top of his forehead to the side of his right eyebrow.

Next, he grabbed a scalpel and cut small incisions at the sides of Frank’s neck, where he then inserted two bolts on either side. The bolts he would use as conductors for the electricity into Frank’s body. It looked kind of strange, Frank having the blunt objects sticking out of the sides of his neck, but it was necessary, so Gerard brushed it off.

The last thing he did was to pull out a small vial filled with a greenish tinted clear liquid. The liquid was what would force the swelling in Frank’s brain to go down to normal size. He’d spent almost the entire previous day, working on the formula, flipping through every book he owned (yes, even the comic books, because they were helpful sometimes too) until he figured something out. He’d run a couple of tests, causing welts on his own arms in order to see if the swelling would go down. He’d had to take the solutions orally, just the idea of the needle piercing his own skin making him light-headed; he only minded sharp objects when they were aimed at him. His first couple of trials hadn’t worked properly, giving him allergic reactions and, with the second one, a nasty infection. He knew it wasn’t safe to run tests on himself. But he really hadn’t had any other options.

As soon as he tried the last formula, though, it had not only made the swelling do down, but had also significantly healed the effects of the other trials. He had been extremely excited, mainly because such a result meant that not only would it heal the swelling, but it would also help to heal the internal bleeding in Frank’s brain, which would have been another significant issue. With that, he was now _positive_ this would work for Frank.

He slowly injected the entire tube into bloodstream through Frank’s wrist, throwing away the offensive needle after doing so. 

Happy with his work, Gerard strapped the leather bands he had prepared across Frank’s chest and hips, then walked over, and climbed the ladder so he could open the ceiling window, rain pouring in on him immediately. He smiled as he saw lightning flash across the dark, menacing sky and he knew it was time he should start.

The wind outside was strong enough that he was able to let fly the set of three kites, a small metal key attached to each. They soared into the air out of the hole in the ceiling, fluttering in the sky and he tied them to the pole which would conduct electricity to the bolts. He then climbed back down the ladder and quickly made his way around the room, turning on his series of electronics, allowing for the electric flow through the room to begin.

He listened as the soft whirring of electricity could be heard and then walked over to stand by Frank’s side. He grabbed his friend’s hand, just as he had at his deathbed. “Don’t worry, Frankie. This is going to work.” He took a deep breath and let go of his hand, and grabbed a set of jumper cables he had sitting next to the table, attaching the ends to the bolts. Then he grabbed the chain for the pulley system and pulled the platform holding Frank’s body into the air. Once the platform was high above his head, Gerard stabilized the chain and stood back, taking a moment to look up.

The electricity surging around the room started to spark and became louder as the machines powered each other, creating a hectic current. Gerard stared upwards, waiting for the lightning to strike the kites, the one thing he had to leave up to nature itself.

Finally a single stroke of lightning found its way to the metal on the kites and a visible flash could be seen as the bolt hit the platform, and, ultimately, Frank. Gerard gasped as he watched it happen, unsure if he had actually expected it to work. He rushed to turn off the electronics and use the pulley to gradually lower the platform.

Frank finally came into sight and Gerard smiled, before letting the platform drop onto its table and detaching the now warm cables from Frank’s neck. Frank looked the same, but that didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. Surely nothing would have happened to his appearance.

He pulled out his stethoscope (a useful piece of equipment he’d acquired from the school nurse)and ran it across Frank’s chest, trying to find his pulse. He didn’t hear anything, but he continued to try, tugging on his bottom lip as he did so, concentrating on any tiny noise he could find. But there was nothing. Dead silence. Worrying his lip between his teeth, the copper taste of blood trickling into his mouth, Gerard pulled the stethoscope away. _No._ He wasn’t giving up that easily. He pushed the palms of his hands to the center of Frank’s chest and began to push down repeatedly like he’d seen done on Frank at the hospital. It didn’t work though, he realized when he pressed the stethoscope to Frank’s chest, again, beginning to panic.

It _had_ to work. He was absolutely positive it would work. Frank should have been alive. This was all wrong. Why wasn’t Frank’s heart beating a happy little rhythm right now?

“No. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Frankie, c’mon!” he started chanting as he continuously pumped his hands into Frank’s chest, pushing harder and harder. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but _nothing_ happened.

Sinking to his knees at the edge of the table, Gerard gave up. It took everything in him to admit defeat, but he didn’t see another option. He finally had to accept the death of his best friend, and it hit him in the chest like a bag of bricks. His eyes started to water and it wasn’t long before tears were streaming down his face, in a relentless march of defeat and solitude. He sat there on the ground, curled in a ball as he let the grief he should have experienced in the last few days pour out of him all at once. Huge sobs shook his chest, before he calmed down enough to move. He didn’t want to be there, in the same room as Frank’s cold, dead body anymore. It was a form of torture in itself.

He was still crying as he walked downstairs, trying to stifle his sobs as to not wake up his family, and he climbed into his bed.

If it weren’t for his complete exhaustion, Gerard wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep then, but he did eventually, his arms wrapped around his knees and tears still falling down his cheeks and staining his pillow.

*******

 

 

In the attic, a very, very soft beating began as Frank Iero’s heart began to pump blood through his veins, and to all the organs throughout his body.

Frank felt as though his lungs were filled with water as he gasped for his first breath, alive again. He coughed and spluttered, hacking up a good amount of phlegm, held down by the leather binding across his chest.

Once he could breathe normally again, he looked around, completely dazed and confused. “What the fuck…?” he whispered quietly as blood hit his brain and he remembered how to talk. It wasn’t hard, then, remembering basic functions. He moved his fingers, watching as they curled at his own will. Next he experimented with his toes, bare to the cool air around him. He still had no idea where he was, but remembering how to move helped.

Hands shaking, he managed to fumble his fingers around the clasp that held the leather in place, undoing it so he was able to sit up and get the one around his hips. Once he was free, he wandered his hands across his chest, looking down and running his fingers over the long wounds that covered him. “Woah…” he said, out loud, his voice still rough as it scraped out of his throat.

He took another long look at his surroundings and realized that he recognized the place. Yeah, he definitely did. He was at the Way’s house. Their attic to be specific. He saw around the room, a variety of things, all of which seemed out of place. Like…a toaster? His eyes landed on an old-fashioned radio. That reminded him, he really needed to fix that damn CD player in his car. He’d been meaning to ask his mom for ages.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. The bobble head and the SUV. His imminent death. Then the total darkness that had engulfed him right after he heard the sound of the cars crashing together. _He was dead._

“Holy shit. Is this heaven?” he asked the open space, eyeing everything suspiciously. If it was, then it sure was a shitty heaven. He’d always imagined it being more… white and fluffy and less dark and dramatic. Oh, well. He could deal with it, he supposed. He clumsily swung his legs over the edge of whatever table he was sitting on.

He felt a tickling sensation on the back of his neck, and he reached back to scratch it, only to pull his hand around and see a huge ass spider, _right there_ sitting innocently on the back of his hand. His eyes widened in terror as he shook his hand, frantically surging up and almost yelling as he tripped and fell, scrambling on his hands and knees as far away as he could get from the damn thing.

_Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought, rushing to his feet and running to the stairs as fast as he could. Nope _._ This was definitely _not_ heaven. 


	3. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me like forever and a day. 
> 
> Also lots and lots o' thanks to my beta [elle2706](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elle2706/pseuds/elle2706) for being awesome and helping me through this :D

“Gee, look!”

Gerard looked up and saw Frank standing at the top of a set of stairs—no, _escalator_ —waving at him to look. Once he saw he had Gerard’s attention, the other boy hopped up on the banister and slid down, making it about halfway before falling forward in a fit of giggles and stumbling down on his feet the rest of the way. Gerard kept a perplexed look on his face the whole time, unsure of what was going on. 

He looked around himself to see he was in an open, barren space. Dirt covered the floor and dust flew around in the air, only a little bit of sun peeked in through boards covering skylights in the ceiling. Graffiti littered the white walls and the whole place smelled of termites. Despite the musty, desolate feeling of the place though, Gerard could tell he was standing in a mall. An abandoned, horribly mistreated mall, but a mall all the same.

Frank stumbled toward him, beaming and laughing. The shorter boy wrapped his arms around Gerard’s torso for support, trying to get his breath back. After a second, he pulled back to see that Gerard’s stony, confused expression hadn’t changed and he frowned. “Something wrong?” the other boy asked.

Gerard pulled his eyebrows together, opening his mouth before closing it again. “Frank. Where are we?”

Frank laughed before taking his hand and starting to walk. “Hell if I know, Gee…we were just exploring, remember?” Gerard ignored the question and looked down at Frank’s hand in his, confused. He didn’t argue though, obviously. If Frank was holding his hand, he’d take what he could get.

They continued walking through the mall. Gerard noticed that every shop was boarded up or had tarps thrown across the display windows. Some even had “Beware!” or “Fuck off” written in spray paint across their fronts. “F-Frank…I don’t know if we should be here…” Gerard said quietly, starting to get scared. Where the hell were they? What kind of place was this?

They approached a fountain then. Or, what used to be a fountain. Now it was drained of its contents, the cracked and dry tiles visible on the surface. There were a few scattered coins here and there. As they stood at the edge, looking down at it, Frank turned to look at him, face completely serious as he asked, “You have a coin?”

Gerard frowned and pointed down at all of the coins in the fountain like, _Um. Really are you not seeing the same thing I am?_ But Frank just rolled his eyes. “No, stupid. I want a coin that hasn’t been used already. Those have already been wished on,” Frank relented, as if it were obvious.

Huffing out a breath, Gerard dug into his pocket, pulling out two pennies, a nickel and a ball of lint, displaying the items on his palm for Frank.  With a small grimace, Frank reached onto his hand and picked up the nickel, skillfully avoiding the ball of lint. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the task at hand. Gerard began to wonder if his friend had fallen asleep as the seconds ticked by, but then his friend’s eyes popped open again and he flipped the coin into the fountain, the small clink echoing through the empty space around them.

Gerard was about to ask Frank what he had wished for when he heard a loud clanking noise come from behind them. He spun around quickly, heartbeat racing. When he looked back over at Frank, he saw the other boy had a small handgun out, pointing it around as if there were some kind of threat. Gerard held back a laugh at the sight. Frank with a gun? The boy could barely even kill a housefly.

“What’s with the gun, Frankie?” Gerard inquired, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Frank’s eyes shot over to him, a look of fear and anxiety etched across his features. “Wha—“ Frank began, but cut himself off, shaking his head. “Whatever. We need to go. Find somewhere safer.” Frank grabbed onto Gerard’s elbow then and started to haul him in a different direction. Gerard could vaguely make out the sounds of someone, or some _thing_ moving around in the mall far behind them. Just the thought made his stomach tie into knots. Frank led them to one of the boarded up entrances, a department store, Gerard thought. Looking around briefly to check and see they weren’t being watched, Frank kicked in a rotten-looking section of wood, making a big enough space for himself and Gerard to climb through. Once Gerard had toppled through the hole, he was struck by how dark it was in the store. Without the skylights above them, there wasn’t any natural light, and the fluorescents that normally would have been on were probably long gone.

Soon a small light flooded the room in a beam straight ahead of them, and Gerard glanced to his right to see Frank with a flashlight. The other boy put a finger on his lips, telling Gerard to be quiet, as if he didn’t already know. Frank took cautious steps away from the boarded up wall, toward the middle of the store. The beam from the flashlight revealed racks of clothing and makeup counters. Gerard followed close behind, feeling utterly useless in this situation. Obviously Frank knew what he was doing though, so he at least had that.

Frank stopped walking suddenly, and Gerard crashed into his back letting out a string of expletives as he did so. Frank quickly turned to glare at him, his finger on his lips again before he turned back around and pointed at the reason he stopped. Gerard couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his lips. In the middle of the aisle they were walking down, there was a woman lying out on the floor, stomach torn open and dried blood all around her. Gerard walked around Frank, kneeling down next to the woman carefully.

He heard Frank behind him, scuffling to get closer. “Gee…be careful…”

Gerard looked up, frowning. “Frank. I’m not going to touch her or anything, I just want to see…” Gerard leaned his face in a bit closer, examining the body. The intestines were a weird…greenish color. The smell was so foul, as if the body had been there for days. The woman’s eyes were wide open, staring into oblivion.

“Gerard, seriously, get up. We need to get out of here.” Gerard glanced up at his friend again, opening his mouth to object, but he didn’t get a chance to, because just then Frank’s jaw dropped open and he lunged at him, tackling Gerard to the ground, the gun he’d been holding falling somewhere off to their left. At first Gerard didn’t understand, but then he saw the woman, standing straight up, hovering over them threateningly.

Gerard wanted to scream, but his vocal chords weren’t cooperating so he just kind of whimpered pitifully instead. The woman reached down, her frail, emaciated arms stronger than they looked as they wrapped around Frank, pulling him off of Gerard. The other boy scrambled as he was pulled away, and Gerard felt around frantically for the gun. _God fucking damn it_. The beam of the flashlight wasn’t on him anymore, pointing instead at the scene of the woman, towering over Frank, trying to get a good grip on him. Luckily, her movements were slow, dragged out by the disease within her. Gerard almost let out a cry of glee when his fingers landed on the cool metal of the gun, wrapping around the grip and lifting it up. With a couple of shots, Frank’s attacker was writhing on the floor, and Gerard stood up, firing one into her skull as well. He stuffed the weapon into the back of his pants, turning his attention to Frank, who was now breathing heavily on the floor.

Gerard kneeled down, trying to pull Frank into a hug, his arms wrapping around the smaller boy’s torso, but Frank wouldn’t let him. When Gerard took a second and looked, he saw that Frank had a hand plastered to his neck, blood oozing between his fingers. When Gerard gave him a muddled, frightened look, Frank just shook his head, face contorted in a look of pain. 

“G-Gee…I’m s-so sorry…” The hand not gripping his own neck wrapped around Gerard’s forearm, squeezing tightly. “We were…we were supposed to get through this together.” Tears started to form at the corners of Frank’s eyes, one escaping and rolling down his cheek. He sniffled and ran the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes.

Gerard, still slightly confused, reached out and brushed some of Frank’s hair out of his face. “W-what do you mean, Frankie?”

Frank’s eyes widened, looking shocked by the question. He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth to keep it from quivering and finally answered. “Well, you’re going to have to kill me…” His eyes shifted around, not meeting his friend’s.

The world seemed to shut down around Gerard, the mention of such a thing striking a nerve in him. A familiar feeling he couldn’t place. “ _What?_ No. I-I can’t…”

Frank stared at him, his resolve unwavering. “You have to, Gee. Otherwise, I’ll…I’ll turn into one of them…the _undead_.” Gerard’s eyes shot over to the body of the woman, hopefully officially dead now, although he didn’t know if there was a way to tell. “I could hurt you…”

“Isn’t there…isn’t there some kind of cure? I can come up with something!” Gerard exclaimed, the thoughts falling from his mouth as he broke into hysteria.

“We don’t have time, Gee…” His friend’s face twisted then, he sat up, looking kind of green. His chest convulsed and Gerard held onto his arm, trying to give him some support as Frank leaned over to the side and puked blood mixed with an acidic looking substance that Gerard didn’t really care to examine. Frank’s hands were braced on the floor, his face hovering over his own bile. Through his heaving breaths, he managed, “It’s already started…”

He looked up again, locking his gaze with Gerard’s. “Please, Gee. Just…just do it.” Gerard slowly reached around himself, pulling out the small revolver, the metal glinting threateningly in the dim beam of the flashlight. Gerard grasped the cool handle, his fingers gripping it tightly.

Placing the gun in his lap, Gerard took a minute to look across at Frank. His friend looked tired. He looked like whatever was inside of him was tearing him apart from the inside out, at war with his body, already, only a few short minutes from the initial infection. His eyes were red, his cheeks flushed. The wound on his neck was still bleeding, a thick line of scarlet red running down his neck and onto his t-shirt.

He didn’t want to see his friend turn into a monster. Some _dead_ thing not at peace with themselves as they lost their humanity and wandered aimlessly for the rest of eternity, the only goal being to feed.

Gerard’s mind raced as he took deep breaths. He didn’t even realize he was lifting his arm, until the gun was at Frank’s temple, cocked and ready. He gathered up the nerve, he tried to push all emotion aside. He tried not to see in Frank’s face the little boy he had grown up with. He needed to focus on the here and now.

But he couldn’t do it.

The gun dropped to the floor with a shattering clash. He dropped his face into his hands, sobs breaking from his chest. “I-I can’t Frankie…”

Soon familiar arms were wrapping around him and pulling him in. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Gerard could smell the puke on Frank’s breath as he was pulled in, but right then it didn’t matter. His arms wrapped around the other boy, holding him tight.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes later that Frank’s hand stopped moving through his hair, freezing. Frank grew very still, his body rigid and Gerard pulled back to be able to see his face. Frank’s features were devoid of all emotion, staring back at Gerard with no passion or intensity, just dead. “Frankie…?”

Frank didn’t react when Gerard reached a hand up to touch his face. He slowly began to back away from his friend.

A scream erupted from Gerard’s chest as Frank lunged at him, manic and crazed eyes focused on his prey, mouth open with intent—

“Gee! Gerard, c’mon. Wake up!” He woke immediately, but didn’t move, his breathing ragged from the nightmare. It took him a minute to get his pulse back down to a normal, healthy level.

“Fuck- go away, Mikey. I’m not going to school today.” He pulled his pillow over his head and flipped onto his stomach.

“You know,” Gerard heard through the thick pillow covering his ears. He felt someone move over him, and then there was a huge weight sitting right on his ass. “I find it really offensive that you think I’m Mikey. But I guess that’s better than your mom or something…”

 _Holy shit_. Gerard would recognize that snarky, smart-ass voice anywhere. He flipped over so fast, he threw Frank to his side, onto the bed. “Frankie?” he asked, excited and scared and dubious all at the same time. But sure enough, there Frank was, sprawled out on Gerard’s bed in nothing but his boxer shorts. He barely had a chance to grin up at Gerard, before his friend pulled him into a tight hug. Gerard held Frank tightly to his chest, and he really, really wanted to just not let go. Ever.

But he had to eventually, because Frank pulled away, wincing a bit as he did so. “Sorry, I, uh. I’m a little sore, man.” Oh, right. Of course he was sore. He’d been in a metal box underground for days. When Gerard finally got the chance, he looked Frank over. There were the stitches in his forehead and all along his chest. So this wasn’t a dream, then. This was his undead Frankie. He reached up a hand and poked Frank’s cheek, his eyes wide and mouth gaping just slightly as he made sure his friend wasn’t just an illusion. “I did it…I really did it…”

Frank’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “About that…what exactly did you do, Gee?” He swatted Gerard’s hand away. “And seriously. I’m here. Stop poking me, dumb ass.”

Gerard broke into a grin, because Frank was there. And that was all he needed. “Holy shit…” he whispered, just staring at Frank. “You’re like _you_ , right? You don’t want to eat my brains or drink my blood or anything, do you?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. It was a serious question. He needed to cover all his bases. This was uncharted territory.

“Yes. I’m me. And, no, I don’t want to drink your blood. A burrito would be awesome, though.” At that moment, they both looked down as Frank’s stomach let out a loud grumble. So he was hungry for normal food. Gerard took mental note, trying to keep track of any details he could. Frank looked back up, rolling his eyes. “Now, fucking tell me why I’m even here. I _died_ , Gee. Or at least I think I did,” he said, looking perplexed, as if he wasn’t quite sure if that was true. “Is this some kind of, like screwed up afterlife?”

Gerard shook his head and stated, simply, “Nope. I brought you back.”

Frank started to giggle, his eyes bright with what he thought was a joke. He flopped around and laid his head down in Gerard’s lap, staring up at him. “Oh, you brought me back from the dead, did you? Should I swoon? What a knight in shining armor!”

Gerard let out a sigh and ran a hand through his own hair, “No, Frankie. I really brought you back…It was kind of tough, but with the lightning and-“

Frank shot up and glared, his eyes boring into Gerard’s skin. “No you didn’t. I don’t believe you.” Although, realization and understanding seemed to flash across his eyes and Gerard watched patiently, just cracking a smile and waiting for him to put the pieces together.

“But…I…Oh, my god! That is so awesome!” Frank shouted excitedly, tackling Gerard against the bed. His laughter filled the room as he stared down at Gerard from where he was now straddling his hips. Gerard beamed back at him in response.

Just then, Gerard’s alarm went off for school, and they both jumped at the loud, intrusive noise. Gerard reached the short distance to his alarm clock, turning it off. When he looked back up at Frank, the other boy was climbing off of him and then the bed. “I need to go to school…” Gerard told Frank. 

Frank looked over at him, grinning, “Yeah, okay. So what are we going to tell everyone? Because I’m supposed to be dead, right?” he scratched his head and began to pace, as though giving the matter considerable thought. “We could tell them I was actually abducted by aliens, and now I’m back. It’s a stretch, but no one would probably think much of it… Oooh! Or maybe we could say that I was actually an undercover agent from Russia, and that was just my clone,” Frank continued to name ideas, and Gerard looked for an opportunity to step in.

“Frank,” he cut into the middle of an idea about evil twins from hell or something. “Frank, you can’t go to school.” He watched as Frank’s face dropped and he stopped pacing. “You can’t see _anyone_. You need to stay here.”

Slowly, a variety of emotions seemed to flash across Frank’s face, none of which seemed very understanding. “But, Gee…I can’t just stay in your fucking _basement_. I mean, I’m alive! I need to celebrate this. People’ll be happy…” his voice cracked at the end. He seemed to see the reality of the situation then, his eyes falling to the ground.  Maybe being alive wasn’t so great.

“No, Frank, wait, wait. I just need to figure things out, okay? You’ll be able to see people soon enough, don’t worry. I just need to find a way to warm people up to the idea,” he nodded. Keeping Frank locked up in his basement for the rest of eternity was not his intention. He would figure something out. He had to.

Frank seemed to perk up a little, looking up at Gerard through the hair that fell over his eyes. He smiled, then laughed, apparently sated with the guarantee. “Okay, but get me food. I’m seriously starving.”

It wasn’t long before Gerard had gotten Frank a substantial amount of food (a few bags of chips and some bean burritos they had always kept in the freezer just for Frank) and brought it all back down to the basement.  “Alright, so you know where everything is. Just keep the door locked, so there’s no chance of my mom coming in…” he trailed off, trying to think of anything else he should tell Frank. Scratching his head, he looked over at the other boy who was just staring at him with a huge grin on his face. It had really only been a few days, but Gerard had missed that smile more than he would have thought possible.

Before he knew what was happening, Frank’s arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him in a tight hug. “You are seriously the _best_ best friend anyone could have,” Frank told him, the words muffled into Gerard’s t-shirt.

Gerard fought off another bout of tears as his arms snaked around Frank’s back returning the same pressure. He rested his head on Frank’s shoulder and said quietly, “I’m just really glad you’re back, Frankie…I-I didn’t think I’d ever…” he bit his lip and cut himself off. “Just don’t fucking die again, okay?” he laughed a little, his voice weak with the threat of tears.

Frank let out a loud laugh and shook his head, “I’ll try a little harder this time. I promise.” They loosened their grips on each other and stood back. “Love you, Gee,” Frank told him, eyes bright.

Gerard couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he let go of Frank. “Love you, too, Frankie,” he said, and wasn’t sure if he’d ever said anything more true than that. He grabbed his backpack, and, already running late, he left for school, the sound of Frank humming in his bedroom behind him.

 

*****

So far, Frank had had four beers, two burritos (which he’d eaten as soon as Gee left because a cold burrito is not a good burrito) and one of the two bags of chips. That meant Frank was out of food, because, c’mon. _Fritos?_ Really? Who even liked Fritos?

He was also growing increasingly bored and it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. He had at least another two hours until Gerard came home. Two hours of entertaining himself while he listened to Mrs. Way walk around upstairs, her light footsteps easily traced across the ceiling. Comic books were alright as far as entertainment went, he supposed. But many of them he’d already read, a product of so many afternoons spent exactly where he was now: lounging across Gerard’s bed.

Letting out a sigh, Frank climbed up off the bed, stretching his legs as he walked around the room. Once Gerard had left, he’d pulled on one of his friend’s t-shirts, but no pants. Boxers were going to have to do for a little while.

It was so strange to think that he had actually _died_. Because, really and truly, unless you counted the weird bolts he’d found sticking out of his neck and the jagged scars everywhere, Frank felt perfectly fine. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been dead for. Had it been a month? Two? Maybe he’d been out for a year. Although, no. Gerard probably wouldn’t still be living at home if it had been that long.

It also kind of shocked him that everything here was…basically exactly the same. As far as he could tell, the sun still rose in the east and set in the west and Gerard’s room still looked like it had been visited by a raging tornado. It just felt like, maybe since he had been to the other side or something that life shouldn’t have just gone on normally. Not that he expected everything to just stop because of him. But it was a bit of a slap in the face when you realized life went on without you.

He walked over to Gerard’s chalkboard, letting his eyes skim over the familiar handwriting. He saw his name here and there. He realized then how hard Gerard had worked to make this happen. To make the impossible happen. Most of the notes didn’t really make sense to him, but that was normal. It still made him smile, though.

He heard the phone upstairs start to ring, and Mrs. Way stopped suddenly somewhere directly above him, her voice carrying through the barrier, muffled but somewhat discernible. Frank ignored most of the one-way conversation, but he caught the words “I’ll be there in just a few minutes” at the end, before some quick moving around and the closing of a door.

He bit his lip and hesitated for only a second before walking out of the bedroom. There was no reason to waste an opportunity like this. He was just going to get food, after all. Maybe the Ways still had some of those chocolate bars he always made them keep (his name on the box, of course, because he didn’t want anyone to eat them). He did a quick check at the top of the stairs to make sure he was completely alone before walking out into the kitchen.

He took an armful of items, trying to choose things that wouldn’t be missed. “Fuck yeah,” he whispered when he saw his chocolate bars, immediately opening one and shoving it in his mouth. He let out a moan, the chocolate hitting his taste buds. Did being dead make chocolate taste even better or was it always this good?

His eyes shot up as he heard a noise coming from down the hall. Not just any noise either, a bark. It was very low and seemed to be coming from the younger Way’s room. Taking his chocolate in his hand, he started to slowly move toward the door at the end of the hall. Unless they’d gotten one recently, Frank did not remember the Ways having a dog. There was also the possibility that Mikey was even more secretive than he seemed and had actually kept one locked in his room all that time.

Pulling the door open, he broke into a smile as he saw _his_ dog lying on Mikey’s bed. He closed the door behind himself and met Alby halfway across the room, the golden furred animal just as excited as he was. Depositing his forgotten chocolate bar next to him, he dropped to his knees on the floor, enveloping his dog in a hug around his torso. Alby attacked his face, his tongue sliding wetly all over Frank’s skin, and it just might have been one of the best things Frank had felt _ever_. “I missed you too, buddy,” he said, laughing as he scratched behind his ears, ruffling his fur. Alby then rolled over onto his back, letting Frank scratch him and pet him just like always.

“Who’s the best dog ever? Huh? You—“

“Holy. Shit.” Frank was cut off by a familiar voice behind him. Turning around to face the source, he was met by a rigid looking Mikey Way staring at him from across the room. He looked like he’d seen a ghost (Frank wanted to laugh, because, hey, maybe that’s what he thought was happening), and he wasn’t moving. Maybe he’d had a heart attack. That wouldn’t be good.

“You okay, honey?” Frank heard from the kitchen, apparently Mrs. Way was there too. It was another second before Frank got over staring at Mikey long enough to widen his eyes and shake his head fervently, hoping beyond all hope that his best friend’s brother would get the message.

Mikey opened and closed his mouth like he couldn’t decide what to do before calling back, “Yeah, mom. I just realized I’m out of cough medicine.”

“Oh. I’ll go get you some, you just rest, okay, Mikey?”

“Yeah, mom. Thanks.” Then Frank heard Mrs. Way get ready and she left again, heading out the front door.

Mikey didn’t waste any time before slamming the door behind himself and stuttering, “Y-you—you’re. Oh my god. But…I-I saw…how?”

Frank took a second to laugh. This was what he’d been trying to achieve his whole life. It seriously took him dying just to do it? “I think this is actually the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you, Mikeyway.”

Mikey was obviously not in a joking mood. “What the hell are you doing here, Frank?” His eyes flashed and he continued, “Unless you aren’t Frank. Are you?”

Frank scratched his dog’s stomach for a second, not meeting Mikey’s eyes. This would be the perfect opportunity for one of his ideas from earlier. He really liked the evil twin one. He decided against it though and just told the truth. “Yeah, I’m me.” He sighed and laid back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Looking at Mikey from the corner of his eye, he said, “I think the better question is, why are _you_ here, Mikey? You should be in school.” Frank shook his head in mock disappointment.

Mikey took a seat on his bed, rolling his eyes. Apparently he’d already gotten over the fact that there was an undead teenager in his room, because he resumed his usual apathetic attitude. “Got sick,” he replied plainly.

Frank nodded and closed his eyes. It was a couple of seconds later that he snapped them open again and said, “You can’t tell Gee. About _this_ ,” he gestured between the two of them, “little thing, okay? He’d kill me.”

Mikey looked resigned as he said, “Okay, so Gee knows? That you’re, you know, living?”

Frank nodded, having closed his eyes again. “He brought me back.”

“ _Right_. Makes perfect sense, then,” Mikey relented, his voice filled to the brim with sarcasm. Frank looked up to see him nodding. “So my brother can bring people back from the dead now?”

Shrugging, Frank replied, “Apparently…”

Neither boy said another word, both considering the events. In any other circumstance the situation would have seemed impossible. But Mikey had in fact watched as Frank’s body was lowered into the ground just a few days ago. He had seen and heard the monitor flatline the night Frank had died. And yet, here he was, so Mikey really didn’t have an option except to believe whatever was going on.

 

*****

As he walked home that day, alone and with an added bounce in his step, the only thing on Gerard’s mind was the prayer that Frank hadn’t done anything stupid. It was absolutely vital that Frank didn’t pull something dumb and tell everyone. And, if he were honest, that was mainly a selfish hope. If this did get out, people would more than likely blame Gerard. Of course, Gerard would deserve the blame, but that was beside the point. He could only imagine the crazy things people would do if they found out.

Obviously, he was happy Frank was alive. Ecstatic, even. He’d given up hope the night before, so that morning had been a surprise more than anything. He’d figured it out though, why it had taken Frank so long to come back alive. When the lightning had first struck, the serum hadn’t had time to reach Frank’s brain, and in order for anything else to have happened, the healing had to occur. Once the serum had healed Frank’s brain, well, the rest went from there. Gerard just hadn’t waited long enough. Even so, he felt like a little part of him had been torn apart just in the few hours he’d thought he’d lost Frankie for good. He almost considered it to be scarring. Even if he had him now, that didn’t take away the pain he’d felt the night before; he wondered if it ever would.

Reaching his house, he went down to the basement, his feet moving him quickly down the stairs. He resisted the urge to call out for Frank before he even reached his room. Gerard made it to his door, and opened it ahead of himself, looking around for Frank, who wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath, his heartbeat picking up as he surged into the bedroom and dropped his backpack. “Fuck, Frank. Where the hell are-“

“Gee?”

Gerard spun around and let out a relieved sigh, seeing Frank standing in the doorway to the bathroom, the light still on behind him. He was dressed in one of Gerard’s t-shirts and his own boxers were hanging low on his hips. His hair looked wet, and Frank shook it out, letting water fly everywhere around him. Putting that together with the hazy air from the door behind him, Gerard figured he’d just taken a shower. Running a hand through his hair, Gerard smiled, “Hey.” It was then that he heard a soft whimper coming from behind him, and he turned noticing the dog lying on his bed, half-buried in a pile of blankets. Turning his face back to Frank, he raised an eyebrow. “Um…how did you…?”

Frank shrugged and walked over to the animal in question, running his fingers through his fur. The dog responded, even though Gerard thought he was probably asleep, rolling into the touch and letting out a soft whine. “I heard him barking, your mom left for a little while, so I got him from Mikey’s room. Why did _Mikey_ have my dog?” Frank asked, returning the questioning look and shifting his eyes to Gerard’s.

Unsure of how to respond, Gerard joined Frank on the bed and sat down. It was a few seconds later that he said, “Mikey’s good with animals.”

That seemed to be enough, because Frank just nodded and then smiled again, perking up a bit. “You kept my chocolate bars!”

Gerard let out a breathy laugh, “Well, yeah. It’s not like you were dead for months. You died last Thursday, Frank.” Frank’s eyes widened.

Lying back on the bed, the other boy just responded, “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Gerard figured there was a lot Frank didn’t know. Being dead, for no matter how long, had to be a little confusing. “Oh! I need to run tests on you, Frankie,” he exclaimed, remembering.

“Tests? What kind of tests?”

Gerard got up off of the bed, heading over to his work station to grab the materials he would need. “Well, I need to make sure you’re healthy. It’s also…you know for research’s sake. I mean, you’re unlike anything the science community has ever seen! It’s amazing. So…pee in this cup.” He grabbed a small plastic cup off his counter and handed it to his friend who was looking at him, eyebrows raised as if expecting Gerard to say he was kidding. He wasn’t.

“C’mon, Frank. I just need to run a couple of quick tests. I promise it won’t be that bad,” he pouted a bit, and eventually Frank grunted and took the cup out of his hand. His fingers brushed over Gerard’s in the process. They were shockingly cold. “Wait, wait. Let me take your temperature first.” He ran over and grabbed a thermometer from the plethora of tools. Frank rolled his eyes but opened his mouth wide once Gerard had come back over. Gerard placed the small stick in Frank’s mouth, watching as Frank shut his lips around it. When he took it out and examined the tiny readings, he saw that Frank’s temperature was very low. At this point, it was impossible for Gerard to tell if that was unhealthy or just the aftermath of being dead. He shooed Frank off to the bathroom and wrote it down in a notebook anyway.

Frank came back a few minutes later, the cup filled, looking mildly disgusted with himself. “This is gross,” he voiced, shaking his head and sitting the cup on the counter next to Gerard. “I have no idea why you’d want to work with this kind of thing for a living.”

Gerard ignored him and moved onto the next thing. “Okay, so you need to take your shirt off.”

Frank raised his eyebrows and gave a tiny half smile. “Oh, do I?” he asked, voice hinting on suggestive.

Rolling his eyes, Gerard focused on finding the next tool he needed. “Yes, I need to look at the wounds. Make sure they’re not gonna bust open or anything. I did kind of a shitty make-shift job the first time around,” he told Frank, spotting his small pack of stitches and grabbing them.

When he turned back around, Frank was sitting on his bed, shirt deposited to his side. Gerard walked over, kneeling on the floor in front of him. Surprisingly, most of the stitches were holding up pretty well. Gerard accounted that to the lack of moving Frank had probably done during the day. He lightly ran his fingertips over a particularly long wound that made a diagonal across his friend’s chest.

Frank started giggling, squirming away from Gerard’s touch. “Frank, don’t move,” he said in all seriousness.

“I’m sorry, it tickles.”

Gerard murmured a quiet “sorry” and continued to examine the wounds. One looked a bit more unstable than the rest and he pulled out his tweezers. “Stay still, I don’t want to stab you or anything.”

Gerard heard Frank take in a tiny breath, waiting for the sting. Gerard tried to do the job as quickly as he could, taking out one stitch after another, until the wound was bare once again. He pinched the skin to keep it together somewhat and Frank gasped in pain. “Sorry, Frankie,” Gerard said, grabbing his pack and starting the process of stitching Frank up before his friend could be in anymore pain. He cut off the thread with his teeth and laid the excess on the ground with the needle.

He hadn’t wanted to cause Frank any more pain. Shit. Hell knew Frank had been through more in the last week than Gerard could ever imagine.

Leaning forward, on an impulse he quickly pressed his lips to the newly sealed wound, in an attempt to apologize. His gaze traveled up to Frank’s after he pulled away, expecting a look of shock. Instead Frank just kind of smiled at him warmly, making Gerard’s insides jump followed by an internal scold at the reaction.

“I, uh, you should be healed up pretty soon I think,” he told Frank, his eyes falling to the ground as he sat back on his heels.

Frank nodded and squeezed Gerard’s shoulder as he stood up, stretching his arms above his head and grabbing his shirt to pull back on.

Gerard let out a sigh of relief.

 

*****

_Beep…beep…beep…_

Frank groaned as the intrusive sound rang through the room, signaling that it was time for Gerard to get up. He threw his hand over, blindly trying to find the alarm clock and eventually managed to turn it off. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had a rather large seventeen-year-old wrapped around him as if clinging for his life.

The night before, after deciding to share a bed for the time that they would be living in Gee’s room, they had both crawled under the covers, Frank wrapping himself around Gerard, and yeah. Maybe he cracked a joke or two about having to sleep in the cold, dark coffin by himself for almost a week. Gerard hadn’t thought it was very funny.

Now Gerard was wrapped around him, and Frank wasn’t really sure how to wake him up without it ending in a black eye. He ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair. “Gee…you have school, it’s Friday,” he said quietly. But that wasn’t enough. The only response the other boy made was to push into Frank’s hand and rub his nose against the fabric of his shirt. “Gee,” he voiced, a bit more affirmatively. He smacked the top of his head and giggled when Gerard just groaned at him, reaching up a hand and covering Frank’s face.

And of course, Frank’s automatic reaction to things covering his face was to lick them, it was almost a reflex. So he stuck his tongue out and licked a huge, sloppy stripe up the palm of Gerard’s hand. That seemed to finally get his attention, because he lifted his head, his black hair, fading at the roots now, falling in front of his eyes. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in a week, and Frank briefly wondered if that was the case.  “That’s disgusting,” Gerard commented, dragging his hand across Frank’s chest to try and rid himself of the saliva.

Frank just laughed and pushed Gerard off of him. “Up. Up, up, up.” Gerard rolled out of bed, literally. He rolled onto the ground and lay there for a while, soaking in his own misery.

Frank simply shifted so that he was lying on his stomach, head over the edge of the mattress, staring down at his friend, who groaned, “I hate school. And life. Why can’t I just sleep?”

“Because the government says so,” said Frank, folding his hands beneath his chin. That got him a set of raised eyebrows, but Gerard finally stood up. Frank was sitting cross-legged on the bed and watching as his friend gathered up his stuff, finally taking a t-shirt and pair of jeans into the bathroom. Frank didn’t hear the shower start, but he didn’t expect to. Instead Gerard walked out a few minutes later, looking a little less dead, but still very groggy.

Frank asked him to bring down a cup of coffee before Gerard made his way up the stairs, dragging his feet, not even giving Frank a response. Frank knew he would comply though, so he lay back on Gerard’s dirty comforter, settling in for another boring day.

 

 

*****

Frank let out a long huffing breath, exaggerating the noise so it dragged on for a few seconds. He let the sound sit in the air for a moment or two before giving up. “Alby. I have been trying to get your attention for the last three hours and you have yet to move. Do something,” he urged, nudging the huge golden ball of fur at the end of the bed with his foot. Alby was apparently in the middle of a deep slumber right then, though, so he still did not budge.

“Oh my god,” Frank groaned, probably a bit too loudly.

Frank had never been a restful person. Ever since he was young he’d been energetic, bouncing all over the place. His mother would berate him constantly about sitting still and being quiet, if only for five minutes. He and Gerard had hung out every day if Frank had anything to do with it, just to run around one of their backyards only for Frank come home and not be able to sleep for all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It had gotten better as he matured. He lost the constantly flowing energy he once had, but he never lost the desire to be doing _something_. It didn’t have to be physical anymore. He didn’t have to be spending energy, but he couldn’t just do nothing at all. He’d never understood when people did that. Sitting around for hours on end just “relaxing”. Even if he was just reading a book, it was fine.

However, the only books Gerard had were science texts and comic books. He’d been through all the comics at least once, and he really didn’t want to sit and read about molecular genetics. Although, at this point, he was considering it.

It had been exactly eight days since Frank had woken up in the attic. Eight days of pure and utter torture. Well, maybe not entirely. Things were typically fine when Gerard got home and talked to him. But even then, the company only lasted a few short hours before he went to sleep and woke up only for the same hell.

His eyes widened when he heard a creak on the stairs. Someone’s coming down.

It wasn’t anywhere near time for Gerard to be home. So that meant it had to be Mrs. Way. He quickly hopped up off the bed, saw that Alby lifted his head up. Frank returned the dog’s curious look with a glare. _Oh, now you pay attention to me, you little shit._

He quietly edged the door to Gerard’s closet open, sliding in and maneuvering himself behind the line of clothes, which were now, thanks to him, organized neatly by color. He pulled the door mostly close, leaving it cracked enough to see the some of the room.

Mrs. Way walked in then, a laundry basket under her arm. She seemed significantly shocked when she saw how clean Gerard’s room was. Gerard’s clothes weren’t even all over the floor like they normally were. Frank gave himself a mental pat on the back. If there was one good thing that came out of his boredom, that was it. She walked past the bed, giving the dog a pat on the head before searching around, probably for Gerard’s dirty clothes.

Frank muttered a soft curse when he realized, well, fuck, the dirty clothes bin was right there, on the opposite end of the closet, staring at him like a taunt. Gerard’s mother seemed to come to the same conclusion at that moment and turned away from the bed.

She came up to the door and started to pull it open. Frank held his breath, pulse quickening. _Fuck, fuck fuck. I’m sorry Gerard_. He waited for it. The scream or faint. Anything, but then Alby was barking right behind the woman. She turned away from the door. “What?” she asked annoyed. “Do you need to go outside?” She started walking away, leading the dog out of the room, and Frank swore, he had never been more thankful for his dog in his entire life.

 

*****

“So? Did you do it? Did it work?” Pete’s annoying voice broke Gerard’s determination to remain silent on the walk home.

He whipped his head around, probably at risk of whiplash, and stared at the short black-headed boy next to him. Mikey was literally standing _right there_.

To be honest, Gerard was kind of surprised it had taken Pete this long to seek him out. Not that he was even seeking him out now; he was just coming home with Mikey again. Despite this, he managed to look just as excited as he did a week ago.

“Dude. _Shut up_.” Gerard hissed, his piercing gaze hitting the younger male.

Surprisingly, Mikey’s stone-cold features remained pointed ahead of them, not faltering as they continued their walk home.

Pete looked over at his friend and back at Gerard, eyebrows raised as he expected an answer. God. Why did his brother have to bring this lunatic home with him? Sparing one last wary glance at his brother, Gerard slowly nodded his head. He figured that was the least he could do. When it came down to it, Pete had helped him a lot. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do it without his aid.

It was definitely a mistake though because Pete started freaking out. “Seriously? Dude! Dude, I have to see!” His face lit up as he stared at Gerard, probably expecting him to say he was kidding. But he wasn’t.

With his facial expressions, Gerard tried to convey _shut the fuck up_ as best he could to the other kid, but he’d never been very good at that, and either Pete ignored his attempts or didn’t understand.

Mikey remained completely silent. Although, if Gerard looked closely, he could see his brother’s jaw tense up and the way his eyes glanced over from his peripherals on occasion. Something was up.

With a hard pinch to Pete’s side and a jab with his elbow, Gerard finally got the other boy to shut up. As if the damage wasn’t already done. Mikey still wasn’t saying anything though, so Gerard guessed he’d zoned out. He was off in some weird little Mikey Way world which no one really understood, not even Gerard, as hard as he tried. Not even Pete’s frenzied excitement could break through Mikey’s concentration.

Yeah. That was it.

 

*****

“Gerard!” Frank tackled his best friend when he finally came home, relieving Frank from his torment. This wasn’t abnormal. Gerard had grown accustomed to the daily greetings. He knew Frank was suffering from being alone all day long, and he hoped he could remedy the issue soon enough.

“Hey, Frankie,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around Frank’s waist. He didn’t even bother to ask how Frank’s day was, because he knew he’d just get the usual, “Fucking boring as horse shit, Gerard,” which was usually followed by a glare or a plea to leave.

Not yet.

He wasn’t even sure what he was waiting for. A signal that people would suddenly be okay with Frank being alive? Probably not gonna happen. He would figure something out, though. He knew he would. He just needed more time.  A little more time to figure out just what it was he wanted to do with Frank. He needed a plan, but he didn’t have one. Fuck. He was so screwed if he wanted Frank to not hate him for the rest of eternity.

“Your mom came down here,” Frank murmured into the fabric Gerard’s shirt, pulling back after a minute to look him in the eyes. “Almost saw me.” He had a look on his face that Gerard could only determine as meaning, _Hiding in your basement is not as foolproof as you’d like it to be, Gerard._

Gerard bit his lip and went over to sit on his bed. Frank followed behind, sitting down next to him and running his fingers up and down his back soothingly. “I know you’re trying, Gee,” the other boy said quietly.  

The thing was, though, that he wasn’t. Gerard wasn’t really trying at all. He didn’t even know where to begin. Did he try and talk to Frank’s mom first? Or possibly his own? Maybe he could talk to Ray and get him in on it all. He could probably trust Ray not to freak out. Maybe he and Frank could just run away. Go somewhere where the town wasn’t so small and the people so judgmental.

He flopped back on the bed in exasperation, his head hitting the pillows with a thump. Frank moved so he was sitting cross legged near his head and he brought up a hand, running it through Gerard’s hair. “Your roots are showing,” he told him. They were, too, Gerard had noticed. The mousy brown color of his natural hair was peeking through the black he had dyed it months ago. He hadn’t really worried about it though; the difference wasn’t so bad yet.

Gerard let out a grunt in response, as Frank continued to run his fingers through his hair. It felt good, and he closed his eyes. He probably could have even fallen asleep, right there, at about four in the afternoon.

“I can dye it again for you,” Frank offered, his voice small. Gerard cracked open one eye, looking up at Frank who was staring at his own hand as it moved through Gerard’s tangles.

Gerard closed his eyes again, the silence suddenly heavier around them. “Yeah, maybe another time.”

Frank probably nodded, though Gerard didn’t see it. The other boy didn’t stop moving his hand. They sat there like that for a long while in a comfortable silence. Gerard felt himself start to drift off into sleep, even though he knew he had things to do. He had plenty of homework and he knew that there were some tests he should run on Frankie, make sure he was healthy. The only thing his mind could focus on then was Frank’s hand in his hair and the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and eventually both of those things even blended together into the incoherent mess of sleep.

Frank eventually stopped his hand motions, lying down carefully next to Gerard and wrapping his arm around his waist. He pecked his cheek chastely, and Gerard subconsciously turned toward him, now mostly asleep, murmuring a soft, “’Night, Frankie,” as he did so.

Frank stared at his friend adoringly and smiled before pressing his lips to his forehead. “’Night, Gee.”

 

*****

“Well, honestly I think that as long as Batman plays a leading role, it’ll be—“

“Gerard, you okay?” Patrick asked, sounding worried.

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, looking across the table at his friend. Ray lifted his head as if the conversation was of sudden interest to him. “Yeah, um. Why?” He let the annoyance he felt slip into the question. He was talking about Batman, c’mon. Was the interruption really necessary?

“You’ve been scratching at your arm like all lunch. I think you might even be bleeding,” Patrick told him, eyes now focused on Gerard’s very, very red arm, a couple of droplets of blood budding up where his stubby nails had broken the skin. Oh, that. Right. Gerard let his own eyes slide down to the raw skin.

It had only been bothering him a bit. The last couple days or so, the skin had started irritating him. Mainly just a slight itch at first, but now it was getting worse, and apparently it was obvious.  He gulped and looked back up at Patrick, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh, uh. Poison ivy.” He cracked a smile. It probably was poison ivy anyway. He’d kind of stumbled and fell on his way to school the other morning, landing himself in one of his neighbor’s bushes. Yeah, poison ivy.

Patrick grabbed his arm suddenly, his glasses sliding down his nose as he looked more closely at Gerard’s arm. “Doesn’t look like poison ivy, Gee.” Gerard pulled his arm away.

“Dude, Patrick. Stick to your little vials and chemicals and shit. I know what I’m talking about.” He held onto his arm, holding it close and running the pads of his fingers over the raw skin.

Patrick looked at him doubtfully, but continued eating his lunch, only looking up occasionally to check that Gerard wasn’t scratching again. He was though. Fuck. It was so damn itchy. He was scratching his skin until it was tender to the touch, but he couldn’t stop. Eventually he led his brain onto other topics, distracting himself enough to stop scratching, but only when it started to be painful.

Once lunch was over, he managed to find a jacket buried in the depths of his locker and slipped it on, hoping that maybe it would create some insulation between him and the itch. The itch that spread all the way up his arm was strongest where he had injected himself with the serum he had used to cure Frank.

 

*****

“You need to redye your hair,” Frank said from where he was hanging off the edge of Gerard’s bed, bent over backwards, looking at his friend upside down.

Gerard just nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “You said that  like two days ago.”

“Nope, Gee, it’s been two weeks,” Frank said with an eye roll and hopped up from the bed, walking over to the small collection of hair dye tubes Gerard kept on hand (of course he did, the dude was obsessed). There was a black, a bright red, blonde and a sort of off brown color that Frank didn’t think was far from Gerard’s natural pigment. He grabbed one of the tubes, standing back up and walking over.

Gerard had gone back to working while Frank was looking, and he glanced over when Frank shoved the tube in his face. “What the—Right now?” he asked. Did he think Frank had meant three weeks from now? Frank was an in-the-moment kind of guy.

“Yes, right now. C’mon.” He grabbed at Gerard’s elbow, trying to get him to stand up. Finally, Gerard gave in, rolling his eyes, closing whatever book he’d been looking at and allowed Frank to haul him into the bathroom.

Frank shook the bottle in his hand once he had Gerard seated on the toilet cover. He examined the label, reading the instructions he’d read a hundred times before. He always liked to read them again though, just to be sure. Gerard would never let him live it down if he fucked up his hair.

“Red?” Gerard asked. He sounded like he wasn’t even aware he’d owned the color at all.

“Fuck yeah, red,” Frank laughed, brandishing the tube in his hands. “Shower,” Frank commanded, and Gerard got up, standing next to the bathtub, already knowing what to do. They’d walked through these steps together so many times, it was basically muscle memory.

Frank grabbed the shower head, turning on the water and letting it warm up over his hand for a second before he placed his other hand on Gerard’s back, urging him to bend slightly over the tub. A familiar silence fell over them as they went through the motions. The water ran through the strands of Gerard’s fading black hair, falling back down to the floor. Once his head was thoroughly soaked Frank led him back over to sit on the toilet.

“Gloves?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think I have some out there, in one on the cabinets,” Gerard responded, pointing a finger out toward his work space. He wiped some of the strands out of his face, and Frank smiled for a second. He kind of looked like a wet puppy. Frank then quickly walked out and found a pair of latex gloves, slipping them on and grabbing a timer that was sitting out as well.

When he got back, he made quick work of squeezing a good amount of the dye onto his fingers. He didn’t give Gerard any warning before he stood in front of him, his stomach right in his friend’s face as he worked to spread the dye through the wet strands of his hair all the way to the tips. Even through the gloves he could feel the easy slide of the gel as he ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair. When he thought it was thorough enough he took a step back.

He looked down at Gerard who was kind of slumped down. “Fifteen minutes,” Frank said simply, setting the timer, covering the small device in red dye as he did so. Gerard’s hair was kind of ragged looking, unfinished in the moment, but Frank could already tell he was going to like this look on him. Something a little edgy and actually pretty sexy, if he were being honest. Frank laughed and Gerard looked up at him. “You’re okay with red, right?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Is it too late to say no?” he sounded annoyed, but Frank could see the hint of a smile peeking through the facade.

“Probably.”

Frank got down on his knees so that he could see the way Gerard’s hair fell in front of his face at eye level. He used his gloved hands to rearrange some of the strands, trying to style it the way he thought it would look best. “I think the red’s going to look pretty good,” Frank told him, his face serious. He brought his hand back. “Probably should have cut it first, though,” he commented on the way the other boy’s hair was just barely too long. It fell over his eyes just enough that it was probably annoying. Some of the red even dripped onto Gerard’s nose.

Gerard nodded thoughtfully, seemingly considering the notion. “Probably,” he said.

Frank nodded. He wiped away some of the red droplets from the tip of Gerard’s nose with his fingers before he remembered that the dye was all over his gloves too. He laughed when he just wound up spreading the color all over the other boy’s nose covering it in a huge red splotch. Gerard just glared at him. “Sorry,” Frank said, not quite able to stifle his giggles. He pressed his gloved hand to the side of Gerard’s face. Just because, well, why not? The damage was already done.

A droplet of red-tinged water fell from Gerard’s nose and onto his bottom lip, and Frank brought his thumb down to catch it, his finger lingering for a second too long. He stopped laughing, and the irritation fell from Gerard’s eyes, turning darker and more serious as Frank stared back at him. They both seemed to be waiting for something, but neither moved. Gerard looked kind of ridiculous with his red nose and blotchy cheek, the print of Frank’s own hand pressed to the skin. Their faces were so close, they could hear the other breathing, both uneven, and Frank finally closed the distance, his lips pressing against Gerard’s briefly before he pulled back, shocked at his own action.

Gerard’s expression was unreadable, his mouth gaping open a bit and his eyes wide. “I—you—“

Frank smirked before he leaned in again and kissed him with more force, just like he wanted to, if only to wipe the dumbstruck expression off Gerard’s face. “Don’t act so surprised,” he murmured into the soft press of lips. His glove-covered fingers traveled up, winding themselves into the mass of wet, red tangles on top of Gerard’s head, holding him in place as he slid their lips together.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d first found that he’d wanted to kiss Gerard. He knew he’d struggled with the idea of it for a long time, not wanting to admit to crushing on his best friend. He just knew he wanted to, and now he had finally taken the bait for all that it was worth.

Gerard kissed him back, cautiously and still unsure, his movements halting. It occurred to Frank that Gerard had never been kissed before, since they lived in a shitty town where gay was practically considered a felony and acting on such feelings might as well be punishable by death. So he let Gerard figure it out, he felt his friend start to take control when Frank let go of it, slowly but surely learning the motions. This was new. This wasn’t something they’d perfected to the point of memorization, like so many other things growing up together. Unexplored territory, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

The kiss was slow and, surprisingly, not awkward at all after the first few seconds. Frank lost himself in the feeling of it and at some point, Gerard’s hands settled on Frank’s waist.

The time apparently passed faster than Frank was aware of. The sharp noise of the timer broke through his daze and soon he was pulling away from the kiss, staring at Gerard with a mirrored expression of some mixture between shock and desire. “Rinse,” Frank got out, as if that wasn’t obvious. Gerard responded with a nod, but it was another few awkward seconds before either of them moved. Gerard was the first to get up, standing and walking over to the shower, before looking back at Frank expectantly.

Frank blinked and stood up, turning on the shower head and running the water over his fingertips again. They repeated the actions from earlier. This time though, the water hitting the floor of the tub was red-stained and Frank’s fingers gentle as they ran through Gerard’s hair, making sure all of the dye was washed out.

Frank turned off the water and Gerard stood back up, turning toward him. His hair was dripping, but the water was mostly clear now.

Gerard walked over to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Frank followed and stood beside him, examining Gerard’s hair through the mirror. He nodded with finality. “I think it works.”

“Yeah, maybe.” A smile stretched across Gerard’s face.

 

*****

“The red’s different.” 

Gerard glanced up, looking at his brother from across the table suspiciously. They didn’t talk during dinner. Well, it was rare anyways. Normally, the soft clink of silverware on plates was the only sound that could be heard in the Way’s tiny dining room. His mother didn’t even look up at the sound of her younger son’s voice, unfazed by the interruption.

Brushing it off, Gerard gave a simple nod. Sure, yeah. The red was different.

The sounds of dinner continued, and Gerard figured that was it. Mikey was done pointing out the obvious and had moved his focus to twirling his spaghetti around his fork just right. Although, the _tap tap tap_ of Mikey’s foot under the table would indicate otherwise.

“Funny,” Mikey started, not taking his eyes off his plate. His voice was plaintive, matter-of-fact. ”I didn’t know you could dye your own hair. Frank always did it for you.” Their mother instantly narrowed her gaze at her youngest son.

“ _Michael Way_ ,” her voice pierced the conversational tone of the one sided exchange. The name _Frank_ in itself was still a trigger in her mind. Gerard worried his lip between his teeth, trying to catch up with what his brother was trying to get at.

Mikey shrugged his shoulders, refusing to react to his mother’s accusatory tone. “I was just stating an observation.” He waved his fork around, making a point, “He never really did much himself. I’m kind of surprised he’s surviving.”

Gerard gripped the fork in his hand tighter. His eyes were fixed on his own plate. Without even looking, he could see his mother’s expression in his mind: appalled, jaw practically to the table. _What the fuck was going on anyway?_

“You apologize to your brother this instant, Michael or you can…you can go to your room,” their mother told Mikey, her voice raised only a tiny bit. Gerard almost laughed at the warning. Their mother never punished them. He thought they were probably past the _go to your room, young man_ threats at this age.

Gerard looked up just as Mikey rose from the table, rolling his eyes. “I was just leaving anyway.” He gave Gerard an intense, meaningful look and walked out of the room.

As soon as his younger brother was gone, Gerard felt the soothing hand of his mother on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s fine mom.”

“I’ll talk to him,” she said quietly, that familiar motherly tone coming out. Gerard suddenly felt the weight of all his lies. He didn’t want to be lying to his mother. The poor woman had almost been through as much with this as he had.

He nodded and gave her a tiny smile, picking up his own plate and stacking Mikey’s on top of it. He gave his mother a kiss on the top of the head as he left, heading back downstairs. 

He got to his bedroom, the confusion of dinner settling in his brain, but that wasn’t even the half of it. As soon as he opened his door and saw Frank shoot his gaze over, eyes bright and smile wide, that confusion was joined by another.

Seemed like he was confused a lot lately. Book smarts didn’t always lend well to social shit.

He’d been called up for dinner almost as soon as Frank had finished dying his hair, leaving minimal time to actually process what the fuck was going on.

Before he could even figure out what that smile on Frank’s face meant, the other boy was getting up, and Gerard gulped. He froze when Frank wrapped his arms around his neck, leaning in and kissing the corner of Gerard’s mouth. In contrast to his confident movements, the kiss was soft, almost like a question.

Saying that he had never wanted this would be a lie. But saying that he’d ever admitted that to himself would be one too. For Gerard it had always been one of those weird things in the back of his head that he didn’t let himself think about. If he had, the consequences could have been catastrophic.

 What happened earlier had been fine, pretty cool actually. First kisses always were, right? He’d gotten into it and even if he could account some of that to his familiarity with Frank, Gerard gave himself some credit.

But why now? Why was Frank choosing right now to suddenly embrace his (apparently) suppressed sexuality and start something?

 _Because he’s bored out of his mind and has nothing better to do than mess with your head_ , the tiny, evil voice in the back of Gerard’s mind told him. _Or maybe he’s mad because you have him locked up in your basement. He’s gonna get your hopes up and drop you, break you into a million tiny pieces._ Gerard felt the fear welling up, his eyes shifted, looking everywhere but Frank’s.

Frank pulled back when he didn’t get the response he wanted, frowning. “You want this, right, Gee?”

 _Yes, of fucking course I want it._ “I, uh, if you do, Frankie?” He hated how unsure he sounded. How did Frank manage that? Being cool, calm, and collected all the time about fucking everything? It drove him insane.

But so did the smile that spread across his friend’s face. “Okay, good. So we’re on the same page.”  

 

*****

It was getting worse. The rash was slowly spreading up his arm and he’d started scratching at his shoulder. He’d basically scratched raw the skin of his forearm, and had taken to only wearing long-sleeved shirts to cover it up.

He felt ashamed that it had taken him nearly an entire month for the worry to set in, not having been able to admit to defeat. His serum had worked, but only temporarily. Then it struck back, turning your immune system against you.

It wasn’t Gerard’s pride he was worried about anymore, it was Frank. Frank had that stupid shit running through his veins and into his brain. It was worked all over his body, and Gerard had no idea how it would affect him yet. He’d been looking for signs, any indication that Frank was in pain or otherwise diseased, but he hadn’t found anything. He didn’t even have a fever.

It was almost as though Frank’s immune system was working better than ever. That worried him even more. More than likely, it worked proportionally. Gerard had used less of the serum and in a smaller area and it had only been a couple of weeks until he started seeing symptoms. Symptoms which really weren’t even bad.

Frank had received a _much_ larger dose. It would probably take him that much longer to show symptoms and they could be so much worse.

He hadn’t told Frank yet, not wanting to worry him. Hopefully he would be able to figure something out before he’d need to let him know.

That seemed like all he was trying to do lately. Figure something out, figure something out. He wasn’t even sure if he had the capability to anymore. He was trying so hard, but he knew time was running out. He couldn’t keep up this game forever.

He knew what he needed to do. It was risky alright. But he needed to bring in outside help.

The next day at school, as he sat in his first period class, he ripped out a page of notebook paper, scribbling down a quick message, _I need help with something, meet me after school?_

Patrick saw the note and grabbed it from his hand, replying with a nod.

Gerard had gotten himself into this mess and he would get himself and Frankie out safely, no matter what. 

 

*****

After asking Mikey to wait a few minutes for him, Gerard met Patrick by his locker at the end of the school day. Taking a deep breath, he approached the blonde boy. Patrick looked up at him and smiled. To Gerard’s surprise he held a hand out. “Let me see it.”

“See what?”

“Your arm, Gee. I know that’s what you need help with, so let me see it.”

Gerard gulped and extended his arm, rolling up his sleeve to show Patrick the scratches. Patrick grimaced and took a closer look, examining the skin. After thoroughly poking and prodding Gerard’s tender arm, Patrick dropped it.

“So what did you do?”

Gerard sighed. Was he really that obvious? “Well, I tried to come up with this medication…to reduce inflammation. I didn’t have any good test subjects so—“ 

“You tested on yourself?” Patrick asked, alarmed. “Holy smokes, Gerard, that’s crazy! That’s like number one no-no in science, you know that, man.” Patrick’s eyes were wide.

“I know, I know…” 

“I can help though,” Patrick said, his voice back to a normal volume. “I think together, we could probably figure it out.”

Gerard let out a sigh of relief and released the tension that had been growing in his shoulders. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Patrick chuckled and shut his locker, shouldering his backpack. “No problem. After school Thursday, okay?”

Gerard nodded and watched as his friend walked away. He hated asking for help, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

After a considerable amount of time had passed, Gerard walked back out, finding Mikey slumped up next to the main doors to the school, waiting. The air was a bit more tense as they walked back compared to normal.

An abnormal silence radiated around them, where it would typically be filled with an anecdote or another from Gerard. Since the night before, Gerard was really uncertain of how to act around his brother. Whatever the hell his problem was.

They were only a block from their house when Mikey suddenly stopped, a pained look on his face. Gerard stopped too when he noticed, turning back to look at his brother, eyebrows raised in question.

“Gee…” his brother said softly, the hostility from last night not evident at all. “Dude, how long are  you planning on keeping Frank in our basement?” 

 

*****

“How the hell does my brother know, Frank?” Gerard could feel himself fuming. No one was supposed to know. That meant absolutely _no one_. What part of that did Frank not understand?

Frank was reading a comic book on Gerard’s bed when he came in, one leg folded over the other, looking relaxed. He seemed startled by the outburst though. “It was an accident,” he told Gerard, sounding genuine.

The bed shifted as Gerard sat  down on it, one hand pulling at his hair. “I—” he sighed. “We can’t afford accidents, Frank.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, Gee. Sorry I let _one_ person know,” Frank rolled his eyes, setting the magazine down and crossing his arms. “It’s not the end of the world, I promise.”

“Frank…” A sigh. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m not just doing this to spite you.”

“No. I don’t know, Gerard. I don’t see you making any progress. I’m here all day, all alone and—” Frank cut himself off, his body relaxing from the defensive stance it was taking. He sighed, looking down, a pink shade gracing his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He gathered his composure back and crawled over, taking Gerard’s hand in his own. He cupped the other boy’s cheek with his free hand, his thumb rubbing gently over his cheekbone. “I’m sorry, it’s just tough, you know? I’m sorry Mikey found out.”

Gerard nodded, letting himself breathe normally again. Mikey knowing wasn’t so bad, after all. 

Gerard hated to think it, but maybe, in some subconscious part of his brain, he didn’t want people to find out because leaving would probably remind Frank. It would remind him that he didn’t like guys, or more specifically he really didn’t even like Gerard. He knew he couldn’t keep this quarantined Frankie to himself forever though. He shuddered with the way those thoughts sounded in his head. Maybe he was going crazy. 

“What is it you’re scared of, Gee?” Frank asked, quietly.

Instead of answering Frank’s question, Gerard brought up a hand, curling it into Frank’s shirt and kissed him hard on the lips. Keeping their faces close, their foreheads smashed together, he whispered, “I just don’t know how people are going to react, Frankie. I don’t want them to take you away. Or me away. Or anything. I just couldn’t do that. Not again.”

Frank nodded in understanding and kissed him again. Gerard knew that Frank still wasn’t happy with the answer, but it worked for now. For a little bit longer it would have to work.

They both looked up and at the door when they heard a soft knocking. Gerard cleared his throat, distancing himself from Frank. “Uh, who is it?”

Mikey didn’t answer but just pushed the door open, his arms were across his chest and he was almost…was that a pout?

His eyes shot over to Frank, who just smiled and gave him a tiny wave. “Hey, Mikeyway.”

Mikey walked into the room and sat down on Gerard’s desk chair. “Alright, spill. When did you learn how to raise people from the dead? You couldn’t even tie your shoes ‘til you were twelve.”

 

*****

“Damn it, Gerard. Don’t you own any scarves?” Frank asked in an aggravated tone to absolutely no one. Well, there was Alby, but no one who could respond. 

He was standing at Gerard’s closet, wearing a long sleeved shirt under a coat which was a size too big for him and a pair of skinny jeans. Frank really had no clue how Gerard stood wearing the damn things, they squeezed him in all the wrong places. Plus, they were just long enough that Frank had to cuff the ends.

He managed to find a ski mask and a hat which he figured worked well enough. Pulling on a pair of mittens he found, he took a deep breath. He found a chair and pulled it over so that it was beneath the small window, and he could pull himself up and out.

The thing was, well. There were a couple of things. He was tired of the basement. It was starting to make him sick, looking at the same four walls all day, every day. It was starting to smell down there, and the lack of fresh air was making his head hurt. So that was one thing. Also, he was kind of curious.

He’d been dead, for a week, apparently. Dead people got graves, which meant that there was one for him. And, honestly, who wouldn’t want to see their own grave if they had the opportunity? Frank wasn’t going to pass up the chance. He wanted to see his name engraved in the headstone. Fucking awesome.

So he was leaving. Just for a little while. With a ski mask covering everything up to his eyes and basically every area of skin clothed in some item or another, he figured he was fine. No one was going to recognize him like this, he was confident about that. 

“Wish me luck,” Frank said to his dog, who lifted his head and wagged his tail. Frank thought that counted as a good luck.

He opened the small window and thanked god, for once, that he was fairly small as he pulled himself up and wiggled through the window.

No one was out on the streets, so it was an easy, stress-free trip to the graveyard.

None to his surprise, it was raining, just a light drizzle, the clouds menacing above his head. He had a feeling the weather would be worse later on. Even so, he loved the feeling of the wind on the little bit of face he had exposed. It was, pun intended, a breath of fresh air compared to the cramped basement.

It wasn’t until he was standing at the open gates to the graveyard that he realized he had no clue where the hell his grave was. Funny how that worked. He’d kind of hoped he’d have some sort of sixth sense, a supernatural pull toward his resting place. 

He sighed and figured he’d walk around until he spotted his own name. It would probably take a while.

The place was deserted. It was surreally quiet; the only noise reaching Frank’s ears was the soft rustle of tree branches in the wind. He started walking, scanning the ground for any signs of his name.

He let out a semi-giggle at one of the names displayed on a headstone, _Dick Higglesworth_. Poor guy. When he looked up from the engraving, his heart stopped. There, standing about two-hundred feet away was his mother.

He could only see her back, but he knew it was her. There was no doubt. He watched as she bent down, setting a small bouquet of flowers at the foot of a gravestone.

His gravestone. Before he realized what he was doing, he was walking closer. He stopped, behind a tree, when he was a good bit away, not close enough for her to hear him or even sense his presence, but close enough to see. There were bags under her eyes which were red-rimmed. It was the kind of tired look that indicated she hadn’t slept properly in days, possibly even weeks. It wasn’t even the kind of tired that looked like it could be fixed with a little sleep. Her dark hair was pulled out of her face, sitting in a messy bun atop her head.

She wiped at one of her eyes. She wasn’t bawling, not at all. It was more of an escaping tear, one that she was trying to hold back, but couldn’t. She was trying to move on, but she was tied to this spot. Her son’s grave kept pulling her back and she couldn’t just leave him.

Frank wanted to reach out. His fingers twitched with the thought. Hold his mother and tell her it was okay. That he was alive, and everything was okay now, but he heard Gerard’s voice in the back of his head, warning him against the dangers of it.

He began to wonder how long she was going to just stand there, staring down at his headstone, but just as he decided he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was going to reach out and say something, she turned away, walking silently away from him and out of the graveyard.

He didn’t really want to see his grave anymore.

 

*****

“Annnnnd fetch!” Frank said, as loudly as he thought he could, launching the small tennis ball across the room. Alby, who was actually active for once, got up and ran to grab the ball. Frank was trying to be careful, make sure he didn’t hit any of Gee’s shit when he threw, but frankly he didn’t care either way.

He still felt the small buzz of outside air on his skin, just a bittersweet reminder of everything he had tasted just a few hours ago. The thrill of the energy he’d felt still lingered and he needed to do something physical, whatever that meant in the small space he had.

As Alby ran over to get the ball and bring it back to him, Frank turned his head to the side, looking at the small notepad he’d made himself. Tick marks ran in a neat little line across the white surface. Of course, he didn’t need the count. They didn’t live in the Stone Age, he could find out the date easy enough, but being dramatic never hurt anyone. Plus he always had been a fan of _Cast Away_.

He groaned. There were now thirty of the lines. One for every god awful day. Alby jumped up onto the bed and Frank took the ball, flinging it across the room again.

Gerard had even brought him some books eventually. A nice gesture he supposed, if he stepped back and ignored everything else.

He was going stir-crazy. The only people he’d had contact with in the last month were Gerard and Mikey, who was actually pretty cool now that he thought Frank was worth talking to. But who wouldn’t want to talk to the undead kid, right?

Frank couldn’t help but feel angry. Gerard wasn’t giving him updates. Was he even _trying_ to help Frank out?

Alby brought him the ball and Frank let it go a little harder than he’d meant to, it slammed into the chalk board, making it rattle. Fuck. Too loud.

The fact that he even had to be quiet pissed him off. He knew Mrs. Way! He’d grown up with her. Fuck. He would be happy if he could even go upstairs and sit down. Have a cup of tea or some shit.

Alby, now lying beside him, cocked his head when he heard Frank let out a loud groan.

There was seriously no point to even being alive if he had to stay here for the rest of his goddamn life.

The door swung open, revealing Gerard just as Frank threw the ball again, even harder than the last one, almost knocking the chalkboard over, but it just teetered on its stand and stayed up.

Mikey walked in behind Gerard, like he had taken to doing in the past couple of days. “Nice throw, man,” he noted in his usual monotone.

“Thanks.” He reached over and grabbed a handful of potato chips from the bag in Mikey’s arms, stuffing them in his mouth.

Gerard stayed at the door for a second or two, staring at Frank before he walked over and sat down at his desk.

“How was school?” Frank asked, curious.

Mikey shrugged. Gerard said, “Toro cut his hair.”

Frank started laughing, imagining a barber trying to de-mane his friend. “Oh. God. A de‘fro-ed Toro. I’d love to see that.”

“I’ll take a picture.” Gerard said, distractedly, staring down at some notebook he seemed intent to study.

Frank sighed.

 

*****

That night, Frank curled his fingers into Gerard’s shirt, pulling himself closer. He could tell that Gerard was right on the brink of sleep, but his own mind was whirling. He couldn’t push himself over that barrier quite yet. His thoughts from earlier that day were racing around his head, a hundred miles an hour and he just needed to do something about it. 

He pulled his face closer to Gerard’s, closing the short distance between them and capturing his lips in a soft kiss. This would probably work better if he went about it nicely. Gerard kissed him back, lazily at first, not fully aware of what was going on. A few seconds later, his eyes shot open, meeting Frank’s. Gerard deepened the kiss, moving from a lazy press of skin to a more passionate slide.

Frank easily gave in, his fingers moving to thread into Gerard’s hair, cupping the back of his head. Their noses bumped awkwardly together as they found the right angle, eliciting a series of giggles from them both. He felt Gerard’s hand on his hip, and he pushed into the grip.

His hand traveled down and started to trace under the hem of Gerard’s t-shirt, the cool press of his fingers against his warm stomach making Gerard shiver.

Oh, right. There was a reason he started this. Crap. Okay, making out could wait. His question wouldn’t take long; all he needed was a yes. Then they could go back to this. It was simple really.

He pulled back then, smiling when he heard Gerard’s soft whine in response. His hand wrapped around Gerard’s back, pulling him closer as he pressed their foreheads together.

“I want to see my mom, Gee,” he whispered quietly. He didn’t even bother prefacing the statement. He didn’t see why he would need to.

In the dark he could just make out the soft shape of Gerard’s mouth, the way the corners turned downward, almost imperceptibly. He could tell Gerard’s jaw tensed just by the set of his lips. His eyebrows pulled together and it took him a couple of seconds before replying, “You know you can’t do that, Frank.” His hand dropped from Frank’s hip, landing somewhere between them.

Letting out a sigh, Frank began trying to knock some sense into the other boy, “C’mon, Gee. It’s just my mom. It’s not a big deal. She’s not going to do anything drastic. She’ll be happy I’m back!” He giggled, then realized Gerard definitely wasn’t getting the idea and stopped abruptly.

Gerard pulled away from him, rolling onto his back, his hands folded neatly over his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. “Except it isn’t just your mom, Frank. It’s your mom and it’s _Mikey_. I don’t think you understand the potential consequences here. We’ve gotten lucky so far.”

Suddenly Frank felt like he couldn’t just sit still. That’s what he’d been doing for a month, and he just wouldn’t put up with it anymore. This was bullshit. Pure and utter bullshit. He got up from the bed, pacing in front of it. He saw Gerard glance up, darting his eyes back and forth as they followed Frank.

“I’ve been down here for a month. A whole month! I’ve hardly even seen the fucking sun. I need to get out. I want to see my mom. It’s killing me, Gee.” His voice changed drastically from angry to pleading. He’d been patient. He’d put up with all of the tests and the promises that he would be out and about before he knew it. Nothing was happening. All he wanted was for Gerard to understand.

“Frank, I—“

“You what, Gerard?” Frank cut him off, his voice flooded with the anger that seemed to be lingering just at the edge, waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. “You _want_ to keep me locked up in your basement? You _want_ to treat me like I’m another one of your fucking science experiments? Well, guess what, news flash, I’m not, okay?”

Gerard got up then, walking over to Frank, where he placed a hand on the small of his back, seemingly calm in the face of Frank’s outburst. Frank had to admit it was soothing, and when Gerard pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, he almost gave in. “You know you’re not one of my science projects, Frankie. You just need to wait—“

And that was it. That was where Frank broke and there was no going back. He jerked away from Gerard’s hand, and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you—don’t you give me that bullshit, Gerard. Because that’s all it is. Fucking bullshit. You know,” his voice quivered as he shook with the anger that was pooling in his stomach, “you shouldn’t have even brought me back. I have never … never seen anyone be this fucking selfish. It’s like I’m your pet. You can’t treat me like a dog, locking me up for the day, and coming back at night to play around. Same thing, every day. You _promised_ things would work out soon. Well, it’s not soon anymore, Gerard. I miss my mom. I miss my friends. And yes. I had friends other than you, in case you weren’t aware of that.

“And you know what? Not a single one of them was fucking crazy enough to even consider bringing me back from the dead. Because that’s not normal. It’s not normal at all. You keep saying that people will think you’re crazy. But, you ever think, maybe you fucking are? You’re insane, Gerard. Nuts. Ludicrous,” he seethed, facing Gerard as he gritted out the words. The other boy looked on the verge of tears, but Frank wasn’t done yet. No, he still had one card up his sleeve and he intended to use everything in his arsenal. “And you know what the best part is? I love you, Gerard Way. But I can tell you one thing, if _you_  had been the one who had died in that car crash, I wouldn’t have brought you back. Even if I had the ability to. Because it’s not natural. I would have grieved and moved on. That’s the way you’re supposed to handle these things, and that’s what I would have done.”

Frank watched silently as Gerard sniffled and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He straightened out his shoulders and looked Frank in the eyes, tugging at his lip between his teeth. He looked so hurt, so heartbroken that Frank almost just wanted to take it all back. But he couldn’t. He’d meant what he said, and he wasn’t waiting around anymore. He couldn’t afford to.

“If that’s how you feel, Frank… I, um, I get it.” Gerard didn’t waste any time before grabbing a pillow and blanket from the bed. Then he turned back to Frank, giving him a long, sad look before turning away and heading out the door.


End file.
